


Arcturus Black

by Katerinaki



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Marauders, Minor Character Death, Original Character(s), Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Pranks and Practical Jokes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:08:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 37
Words: 80,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29091789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katerinaki/pseuds/Katerinaki
Summary: Arcturus Black lost his mother to dragon pox. Now he lives with his Squib aunt and uncle who hate him because he has magic, or maybe because he's the son of notorious mass-murderer Sirius Black and his Hogwarts sweetheart Lenora Malfoy. Maybe he can make some friends at Hogwarts but at least he'll prove once and for all that he's NOT LIKE HIS FATHER.
Relationships: Andromeda Black Tonks/Ted Tonks, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks, Sirius Black/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	1. A New Place

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Fanfiction.net, I've come back to try to continue this story. I have some new chapters from the last posting, but the first few will follow what was already posted on FF.net.  
> This follows an original character, using many side characters from canon and a few originals. It will be AU, purely from the fact that there in an extra character, but will mostly stick closely to canon in the beginning. Please Kudos and Comment!

Chapter 1: A New Place

If there’s anything worse than losing your mother to dragon pox and then coming to live in a whole different country, with relatives you’ve never even met before, it’s coming to live with relatives who already hate you, for something you didn’t even do. It wasn’t your fault your parents both “ran away” and abandoned their duties to their families. It wasn’t your fault you were born in secret in a country 2,500 kilometres away. You were only just a thought back when your mother boarded that Muggle airplane and flew off to live in Bucharest, Romania and take up a job as a magical bookstore saleswoman and then successful owner. You weren’t a twinkle in the sky when your father left his parents’ house at 16 and lived with his best friend, a blood traitor. But that doesn’t mean anything. Not when it comes to besmirching the name of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black. They did the deed, but you are their product, and therefore your blood is just as bad as theirs.

That was how Arcturus Sirius Black, secret son of Sirius Orion Black and Lenora Cassandra Malfoy, understood family politics. He knew that, until a week ago, neither the Black family nor the Malfoy family knew of his existence. Since both his parents had been disavowed from the respective families (his father had literally been blasted off the tapestry of the Black Family tree by Arcturus’s late grandmother, Walburga, when he’d left), neither family really paid much attention if they married and who. Granted, Arcturus’s parents weren’t a normal couple in the slightest. From what Lenora had told him, they’d met at Hogwarts and had flirted around the idea of a relationship for the last year or so of school. Things only began to get serious when Arcturus’s father joined the war effort, against the Dark Lord, You-Know-Who, and they married a few months later before promptly popping out Arcturus. They’d both barely been out of their teenage years. Lenora had been living in Bucharest, but Sirius had remained in London to help with the war effort.

Of course, neither of them counted on Sirius killing twelve Muggles and his supposed friend, Peter Pettigrew, and earning himself a lifetime sentence, rotting away in Azkaban prison. Lenora had been left to raise Arcturus alone without any way of communicating with Sirius. She’d done her best, but had succumbed to a particularly virulent strand of dragon pox (not uncommon in Romania with the large dragon population remaining in the country) and died. In her will, Arcturus had been meant to live with his father; however that was impossible since Sirius was still in Azkaban, even after eight years. So, nine year-old Arcturus found himself travelling to London in England. There, he’d live with Marius Black and his wife, Ariadne. The catch, both were Squibs and no more loved by the family then Arcturus or his own parents.

Correction, there was something worse than living with relatives that hate you for something you did not do. It’s living with relatives who are jealous of you for something _they_ can’t do, but you can. After all, a pair of Squibs from two of the most prominent pureblood families in England was surely dissatisfied with their lot in life. Despite the wealth they still had through successful investments and business dealings, they were sure to envy Arcturus his magic.

“Here goes,” he muttered and took hold of the Portkey that would take him from the consulate for the British Ministry of Magic in Bucharest, to the Ministry’s Headquarters in London, where he would meet his most unwelcoming relatives. There was a jerk from his navel and everything swirled around him, pulling Arcturus off his feet before he was dumped on a rather cold and hard marble floor.

“You okay, boy?” asked a uniformed wizard. He picked Arcturus up bodily and set him on his feet before taking the used Portkey from his hand.

“Yeah,” Arcturus replied. He brushed his robes off and gathered up his trunk before turning to the other people in the small Portkey room. Well, they were certainly related to him. The man had the same dark hair, though it was brushed through with grey and combed impeccably, and aristocratic features. Both wore expensive clothing and held themselves with an atmosphere of superiority, despite being Squibs.

“Arcturus Black,” the man said.

“Yeah?”

“I am your uncle, Marius, and this is your aunt, Ariadne. Is this all you have?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“You will answer with ‘yes’, not ‘yeah’ like some common boy on the street.”

“ _Yes,_ ” Arcturus hissed back, mocking Uncle Marius’s abrupt tone. His uncle chose to ignore his disrespect, though. “Come.” They left the Portkey room and wandered down a few hallways before riding the elevator up and getting off at the main atrium. There they took one of the many fireplaces and Flooed from the Ministry to Marius and Ariadne’s townhouse in London. They lived in a mixed community of Muggles and wizards; they were not permitted to live in the Black ancestral home. Arcturus was given a room on the third floor, a long climb to the top of the stairs, and then left alone. That was fine with him, though. It wasn’t that he had a lot to unpack; it was more that he just didn’t want to see much of his bitter relatives at the moment. Neither had said a word to him beyond what was necessary.

Alone in the room at the top of the stairs, Arcturus looked around and sighed heavily. It had been a long week. With the issue of his mother’s will and where Arcturus would be sent, he hadn’t had much time to mourn properly. After all, she was his mother. Lenora had been the only parent he’d ever known, the one who’d been there for everything, his entire life. She’d comforted him, praised him, encouraged him, scolded him, provided for him, and cared for him, all single-handedly. She hadn’t had any help, from neighbours or from family, and particularly not from his father. It had been only her, and Arcturus missed her. He hadn’t cried at the service; he’d held back the tears for when he was in private. It had only been the one time too, after they’d lowered her body into the ground and covered it over with dirt. The finality of it all had broken through the shock and Arcturus had finally realized, he was truly alone now. Nobody would help him; he had to care for himself, watch out for himself. On the papers, Marius and Ariadne were his guardians, but in truth he was his own guardian. After the funeral, Arcturus had begun to understand just how alone he was. He had to get used to it.

Mostly the Squibs ignored him and he ignored the Squibs. The only real time they interacted was at meal times, and that was forced. Marius would ask him what he’d been up to and often Arcturus would reply with something simple, “I was reading” or mostly a plain old “Nothing”. Marius and Ariadne seemed perfectly happy to accept those less than eloquent replies and then they’d get on with their meals, the only sounds the clinking of their utensils. Occasionally, though, it would be interrupted with some sort of correction on Marius’s part of Arcturus’s table manners. Lenora had established well-enough manners in him, but apparently they weren’t up to par with the Black family’s standards. Usually it was little things, not sitting up straight enough, chewing too loudly, which only served to make Arcturus more annoyed with his uncle.

“You are a member of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black,” Marius lectured, one rainy evening at supper. “You must conduct yourself with decorum at all times, even at home among relatives.”

“So basically I have to act like I have a stick up my arse all the time,” Arcturus muttered.

Marius obviously heard and his eyes flashed with anger and frustration, but like so many times before, he didn’t say anything, no matter how Arcturus tried to bait him. Arcturus wouldn’t mind a good row; he’d often had rather excited ones with his mother. There was something about screaming your opinion at the top of your lungs, no matter what the other person said, that was immensely satisfying. But Arcturus hadn’t had a good row since he’d come to London and it was starting to grate on him. Surely Mr. High and Mighty Squib wanted to give Arcturus a piece of his mind right now. So why didn’t he?

“I mean, that’s what _you_ do, isn’t it? How long has that rod been up there? You might want to get it checked out, you know, just in case.”

Marius’s face flushed in fury and he’d long ago set his utensils down and fixed Arcturus with a glare that would surely kill an Inferius.

‘This is it,’ Arcturus thought in anticipation. He sat forward on his chair, ready to jump to his feet at the first above normal sound.

But nothing of the sort happened. Instead, Marius methodically wiped his mouth with his napkin before placing it on the table and fixing his nephew with a very serious stare. “You are excused tonight, Arcturus. Go to your room.”

“No,” Arcturus replied simply.

“Do as I say.”

“Mm...Make me, _Squib_.”

Arcturus was sure _that_ would set Marius off. He got to his feet as his uncle did, facing off.

“I will ask you again to go to your room, Arcturus,” Marius said, though there was obvious strain in his voice and he looked like he was about to explode a blood vessel.

“And I refused.”

“This is your last chance to do so of your own accord.”

“I’d like to see you _try_ , Squib.”

Well, he didn’t try. He succeeded. Suddenly Marius moved, taking Arcturus by the ear and wrenching it down and away so that Arcturus could only hunch over and cry out in surprise and pain.

“What the hell are you doing?!” he demanded.

“Language, Arcturus. You asked me to assist you to your room and I am merely complying. You are right, I do not have magic, but I am far from helpless. You will learn to mind me or you will find your time here most unpleasant. Now, this way.” He steered Arcturus from the dining room, up the two flights of stairs, and to his room on the third floor. He closed the door behind him and locked it, leaving Arcturus alone with a mostly empty stomach.

“Bastard,” Arcturus growled, massaging his sore ear. It seemed like his uncle had been intending to pull it right off his head, the way he’d yanked it. He was still grumbling as he picked up the book he’d been reading earlier today and took up where he’d left off. His stomach rumbled as he sat down on the bed and opened to his saved page.

“Yeah, yeah,” Arcturus replied. It’d been a month and he hated it here, in London, with his father’s family. ‘No wonder they left,’ he thought as he tried to read and ignore the stabs of hunger. ‘I would too, if I could.’


	2. Meeting the Family

Chapter 2: Meeting the Family

Arcturus hadn’t been with Marius and Ariadne long when it was announced that he would attend a social event at his mother’s family’s house, the Malfoy Manor. Of course, the Squibs themselves were not invited, but Arcturus was, despite his unsavoury parentage. Apparently the Blacks and Malfoys wanted to feel out their young member. He was, after all, technically the Heir to the House of Black. If everything continued as it was, he would inherit the ancestral house in London, as well as the Black vault and its impressive contents.

So, Arcturus was taken out and bought fancy dress robes that were itchy and stiff and made him look like a dork and then stuffed into them and sent from London to Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire. Upon arriving, he quickly found that it was not just the Malfoy and Black families here tonight. Apparently it was a social event for _all_ the pureblood families. Or, at least those who had not been branded blood traitors yet. Witches and wizards of all ages mingled around the room, the men in fancy dress robes like Arcturus’s and the women in elegant gowns. It was obviously some sort of ball, but most stood in groups around the edges, gossiping about this or that person and how their father’s brother’s cousin’s niece eloped with a _Muggle_ , oh the dishonour! Arcturus immediately hated it all, just as he’d hated Uncle Marius and Aunt Ariadne and their stupid townhouse and snooty personalities. But if he thought Marius had a rod jammed up his arse, these people must have whole _timbers_. Some of them looked it too, the way they sneered at others and their misfortunes. Arcturus wasn’t so naive to think that he wasn’t one of the topics they were scoffing over. He saw the looks as he passed and heard the mutters.

“Sirius Black’s son...blood traitor.. _.Murderer_...raised with Muggles...practically _wild_!” Arcturus couldn’t help but grin a bit at the last one. ‘Well, maybe a little,’ he acquiesced silently.

It didn’t take long for his age-mates to find him. Like the adults, they ran in groups, also mostly split by gender. The one that approached him was led by a platinum blonde boy, obviously the son of their esteemed host Lucius Malfoy, Draco.

“You’re the Black boy,” he declared. “The murderer’s son.” The boy couldn’t be older than Arcturus himself, but already he was a pompous ass.

“ _Yeah_ ,” he replied, “that’s right. And who are you?” Of course Arcturus knew already, but he enjoyed the boy’s reaction to his supposedly not knowing.

“I am Draco Malfoy,” he replied, raising his nose as if he’d smelled something rotten, a gesture Arcturus had seen the boy’s father make not five minutes before. “Heir of the Malfoy Family.”

“Right,” Arcturus replied. “And although ‘Black boy’ and ‘murderer’s son’ both have a nice ring to them, I usually go by Arcturus Black, Heir of the Most Noble and Ancient House of _Black_.” He enjoyed Draco’s look of annoyance. After all, the House of Black was much older than the Malfoy family. The Malfoys were obviously French at some point, whereas ‘Black’ was British, through and through.

“How old are you?” Draco asked.

“Nine.” Again Draco looked annoyed. So obviously the Malfoy heir was younger. He couldn’t hold the ‘elder’ card over him.

“I bet I could beat you in Wizard’s Chess,” he challenged, finally looking triumphant.

“I doubt it,” Arcturus replied. He was well versed in Wizard’s Chess and knew all the tricks. His mother had been quite the proficient herself. It was doubtful this kid could provide a challenge.

“Let’s find out.” And he led his posse out the door of the ballroom and into one of the side parlours where a Wizard’s Chess set was already sitting ready. No doubt that was the whole point of this room.

It was a quick game and Arcturus beat Draco thoroughly. He even toyed with him a bit and let Draco get his bishop fairly early in play. But in the end it had been a sweeping defeat and Draco looked thoroughly surly now. “Rematch,” he declared. And so they played Wizard’s Chess all night and Arcturus beat Draco every time. To the younger boy’s credit, though, he did learn from his mistakes. Towards the end of the night, Arcturus had to really start wracking his brains for a move Draco hadn’t seen before, something he wouldn’t be able to catch on to. The last victory had been much closer than the first few.

“Check mate,” Arcturus declared. “Good game.” It was becoming a ritual. They’d shake, even though Draco likely hated Arcturus at the moment. It was the proper thing to do, and Draco was all about proper.

“You won’t win next time,” Draco promised. “I know all your tricks now.”

“I’ll bet you do,” Arcturus retorted, standing and stretching. His back was stiff from sitting hunched over the chessboard for so long. What time was it anyways?

“Next time, bring your broom too. We’ll play Quidditch. I have a private pitch outside.” Draco seemed very proud of the private pitch and once more confident that he’d beat Arcturus. In Quidditch, it was possible at least. Arcturus wasn’t horrible, but he wasn’t the best flyer and hadn’t had much practice, living where he had where it was easy for Muggles to see what was happening the in small yard they had behind their apartment building. If Draco had a private pitch, chances are he’d gotten a bit more practice, even if he was younger. Arcturus would have to try to find a way to practice between now and the next social event.

When he got back to Marius’s house, he quickly changed and settled down to sleep, however his mind was still going over the night. It hadn’t been fun, but it hadn’t been horrible either. He’d played a lot of chess and had all but forgotten the stiff collar of his dress robes that was practically choking him when he’d left the house. Arcturus decided he didn’t like Draco any more than Uncle Marius, Aunt Ariadne, or Lucius Malfoy. But at least the boy could provide an ample distraction. And if he had to go to those social events, better to spend the time with people closer to his age than to wander the swarms of adults and listen to all the dirt they say about each other and his parents.

Come the next time, Draco made true on his word. Arcturus brought a broom and Draco thoroughly thrashed him. Granted, Arcturus was extremely rusty and at a disadvantage since those on his team didn’t really like him or knew him, but Arcturus was fairly certain Draco could’ve beaten him one-on-one too. He was good. Not _great_ , but good at least, for someone his age. Arcturus found out that Draco was eight, though he would be nine very soon. Draco’s birthday was June 5th, and Arcturus was invited, albeit reluctantly at first.

“I suppose you can come, though I doubt you’d know anybody.” The group Draco hung out with normally consisted of mostly boys and one girl. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were both more brawn than brains and so thoroughly inbred, Arcturus wondered how they even functioned. Theodore Nott was Draco’s sidekick, echoing almost everything Draco said and practically worshiping the ground he walked on. Pansy Parkinson was the only girl and if an eight-year old could have arm candy, she’d be Draco’s. She constantly fawned over him and sang his praises. Arcturus was fairly certain Pansy already heard wedding bells, though Draco seemed not in the least bit interested in her in that way. He only tolerated her because his parents told him to and she could play a decent game of Exploding Snap.

This group Arcturus got to know at all the social events and soon became, not part of their group, but accepted as a tagalong, at least. Arcturus actually made a point _not_ to become one of Draco’s cronies. It wasn’t just because Arcturus was older than him. Arcturus wasn’t a crony. He was more of the ‘loner’ type. The others seemed to recognize that and were perfectly happy to let him be that way. They tolerated him because Draco was constantly competing with him. Every time Arcturus saw him, it was something new, a new game, or maybe a rematch of an old one because Draco had learned a new move, technique, or manoeuvre. The one thing Draco could never beat Arcturus at, though, was Wizard’s Chess. Arcturus remained the victor in that, whether they played once or a hundred times. Draco was never satisfied with that, though, so Arcturus was often reaffirming that title.

Draco became his competitor, a rival of sorts. The adults saw it and thought it poetic. The Heirs of two of the richest, most outstanding pureblood families, competing against one another. The fact that both were half-Black, half-Malfoy only added to the adults’ amusement. It was like they were fighting over who was the _true heir_ of both houses. Neither boy saw it that way, but that’s what the adults thought. Lucius Malfoy even went so far as to pull Arcturus aside privately one evening, before Draco could drag him off for whatever match they were having that night.

“I see you have become close to my son,” he commented.

“I wouldn’t say _close_ ,” Arcturus replied.

“Yes. I suppose friendly adversaries would be a more fitting description,” Lucius agreed. “And who often wins these ‘matches’ you have?”

“It depends,” Arcturus told him.

“On?”

“On the game. On the night. On whether or not I want to hear Draco’s whinging or his bragging for the rest of the night.”

Lucius looked put out at the slight insult to his son, but he held it together and his voice and manner stayed entirely proper. “Yes, well, I suppose nobody likes to lose. Good luck tonight, Mr. Black.”

“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy,” Arcturus replied, nodding a slight bow, more in mockery of Lucius’s sudden formality rather than any feeling of respect he might have. Lucius obviously didn’t see it that way, though, because he smiled a little and returned the short bow, apparently approving.

‘Great, they _approve_ of me,’ Arcturus thought. ‘That’s never good.’ That night he routed Draco in Gobstones.


	3. Old Friends

Chapter 3: Old Friends

Arcturus had been staying with Marius and Ariadne in London for almost a year before he met anyone outside of the pureblood families. His aunt and uncle were very careful to keep his socialization to “respectable people”, by their standards. Of course, none of these “respectable people” would _ever_ come to the Squibs’ house, so Arcturus was surprised when the doorbell rang. He knew Marius was out and Ariadne was in the back, tending her garden. So he stood from his bed and descended the stairs to answer the door, only to find a rather ragged man standing in the doorway.

“They already donate to charities,” he said immediately, assuming this guy was promoting some sort of fundraiser for homeless people or whatnot.

“Yes, I’m sure they do. However, I am not here for any charity. Am I correct to assume you are Arcturus Black?”

“Who asks?” Arcturus replied.

“My name is Remus Lupin,” replied. “I am— _was_ a friend of your father’s, in school.”

“Was?”

“Yes, well, that was before everything happened.”

“Before he murdered twelve Muggles and Peter Pettigrew. Was Pettigrew your friend too?”

Lupin looked pained. “Yes,” he said finally. “Peter was my friend as well. May I come in?”

“I don’t think my aunt and uncle would like it,” Arcturus began. He looked back surreptitiously before turning back to Lupin. “But I hardly ever do what they like. Come in.” He stood back and allowed Lupin to step inside before closing the door. “This way.” He led Lupin down the hall to the sitting parlour. Likely Marius would be a while yet and Ariadne didn’t come in from her garden but once or twice a day in the summer. She’d just been inside for a brief lunch a few hours ago.

Lupin sat stiffly in one of the rather fancy armchairs in the parlour. He looked around and Arcturus could see a bit of envy in his face. It was obvious this Lupin fellow was poor as dirt.

“I’d make tea, but I’m rubbish at it. Hope you don’t mind.”

“No, no, of course not,” Lupin insisted. His gaze finally fell to Arcturus after a sweep of the room and once more, he seemed pained. “How are you? I have not seen you since you were a toddler. You’ve certainly grown...” He trailed off awkwardly.

“Yeah, time, food, and water will do that,” Arcturus commented. “You said you were my father’s friend, from school?”

“Yes. He, Peter, James, and I. It shocked me, to learn what he did. I never thought Sirius, your father, would do such a thing.”

“I guess you’re not really a good judge of character then, hm?”

Lupin was ready to agree with him. “I suppose not.”

“If you don’t mind my being blunt, why are you here?”

Lupin smiled a bit. “Well, I told you, the last time I’d seen you was when you were a toddler. I heard about your mother. I am deeply sorry.”

“It’s been a year now.”

“It took me a while to find out where you were living now. Obviously not with...your father, I am unfortunately not a pureblood or I might have been able to find you quicker.”

“Why do you want to find me?”

Lupin sighed heavily. “I remember before everything happened. Sirius—you were the centre of his world. He loved you, very much. And despite everything, the betrayal, the murder, I feel I owe it, at least to Lenora, to be here for you, in case you ever need someone... _not_ pureblood.”

“Why would I need that? According to Uncle Marius and Aunt Ariadne, purebloods are the only people _worth_ knowing.”

He winced. Physically winced. “I was afraid—was afraid something like this would happen. It’s a pity, your mother and fa—would never have wanted this.”

“Wanted what?”

“Lenora never agreed with her family’s thinking. And, at least I _thought_ Sirius didn’t either.”

“I’m not saying I _agree_ with them,” Arcturus replied. “I’m merely being thorough.”

Lupin chuckled. “You are just like him.”

“My father? I don’t think so.” Arcturus’s voice dropped in his seriousness now. “I might not have any friends, but if I did, I wouldn’t murder them. Sorry, I don’t think I’m anything like him.”

Lupin winced again, but nodded. “You’re right,” he agreed. They lapsed into silence before Lupin finally got up. “I should be going. I do not want to get you in trouble with your aunt and uncle.”

“I’m always in trouble with them,” Arcturus replied. “It comes with being their rebellious nephew.”

Lupin smiled, but he headed back for the foyer. Arcturus followed, escorting him to the door.

“It was nice to meet you, Arcturus,” Lupin told him. “Remember what I said. If you ever need me, for anything, don’t hesitate to Floo.”

Arcturus watched Lupin for a moment, but all he saw was genuine care. It was not something he’d seen since his mother died, and it caught him a little off balance. After all, Arcturus was used to caring for himself by now. He didn’t need others to care. But obviously this Lupin guy did.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied before Lupin left.

He didn’t see Lupin again for a long time, almost six months. And then, he saw him out at a park one snowy day, when Arcturus had managed to escape from the house while Marius and Ariadne were “out” somewhere. It was purely coincidence, but when Lupin saw Arcturus, he waved and beckoned for the boy to join him on the park bench. Arcturus sat and for a while all they did was watch the Muggle children play in the snow, making snow angels and snowmen and having snowball fights while their parents huddled nearby with a thermos of tea or coffee and chatted.

“How are you?” Lupin asked.

“Holding up. You?”

Lupin shifted stiffly. “I’ve been better,” he replied. He certainly had looked better the last time Arcturus had seen him. The man looked even _older_ , though it hadn’t even been a full year. He was thinner, more haggard. His clothes were just as threadbare and the jacket he wore against the cold didn’t look very thick at all.

“What’s happened?”

“Hm? Oh nothing,” Lupin replied absently. “Just a rough time right now. It’s difficult for me to keep a job.”

“That sucks,” Arcturus commented. “How come?”

“Oh, this or that,” Lupin said. “It depends on the employer. I think I might have something after the holidays. I just have to make ends meet until then. But enough about my problems. What are yours? How well are you ‘holding up’?”

Arcturus found himself talking to Lupin for much longer than he’d first intended to stay outside. They’d started on the bench, but then they’d begun to get just a little too cold, so they decided to take a stroll to warm up a bit. Walking helped, or at least it stretched Arcturus’s legs. He noticed that Lupin had a bit of a limp and used a cane that Arcturus hadn’t noticed before when he’d been sitting to assist his walking.

“Did you injure yourself?”

“What? Oh, it’s nothing you need to worry about. Just a bad knee. I’m sure it’s just the weather making it act up. I should be fine in a few days.”

They walked on for a bit, just enjoying each other’s company and the gentle snowfall that had started. Arcturus was more than glad to be out of the house, even if it was just for a little bit and it was without his aunt and uncle’s knowledge. But as they walked, something kept nagging at him, a thought that had been on his mind since he’d first met Lupin, who claimed to know his father so well.

“Can I ask you a question?” he hedged.

“Of course,” Lupin insisted.

“Why did he do it?”

There was no need to elucidate any further on the question. Both understood the “he” and the “it” perfectly. For a while, Lupin didn’t say anything. Arcturus began to think that maybe he wasn’t going to answer. Maybe this was one of those questions adults just answer “because” to because actually trying to explain the concept to a child would just be too difficult.

But Lupin finally did speak and when he did, it wasn’t with dimmed down language or glazed over explanations. It was the truth. “I don’t know,” he said simply. “Sirius, he never seemed like the sort to do something like this. I guess that’s what makes the betrayal all the more hurtful. None of us ever expected him to do this, least of all to James. Sirius _hated_ his family and everything they stood for, pureblood mania, Dark magic, all of it. When they first told me, I couldn’t believe it. Not Sirius, of all people. He might have a twisted sense of humour sometimes, but he’d never go out and murder anyone. It was...heart wrenching. And to have lost James and Lily too...”

“And Peter.”

“And Peter,” Lupin agreed, like an afterthought. “Poor Peter. He never stood a chance. Sirius was _leagues_ better than him, a stronger wizard. It was a massacre. All they found was Peter’s finger.”

Arcturus’s gaze fell to his own fingers, gloved though they were. That was awfully small.

Lupin seemed to suddenly realize just how morbid a turn their conversation had taken. “But enough about that. Christmas is coming up soon. I’ve had this for a while, but I was unsure when I’d see you again. Luckily I have it with me now.”

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small package, wrapped in red Christmas paper, pocket size. On the front was a small tag “To Arcturus, Happy Christmas, Remus Lupin.” Arcturus tore the wrapping off, crumbling it into a little ball and shoving it into his own coat pocket. It was a book, a small one with a bright yellow cover and an orange title that read “Practical Prankster”.

“Basic hexes and spells for the beginning prankster,” Arcturus read.

“I thought you might like to have some fun with those relatives of yours. I realize you don’t have a wand yet, but you’ll be eleven in the spring, yes?”

“Right,” Arcturus agreed, opening the book and skimming over the table of contents. There were spells and hexes for everything. Colour changing spells, simple transfigurations, even some hexes to use on enemies. Nothing seemed overtly cruel, but they were sure to be annoying and angering. Perfect.

“Thank you,” he told Lupin, the corners of his mouth upturned in a small grin. “This is perfect.”

Lupin smiled too. “I’m glad you like it. We used to have a little group in school; we called ourselves ‘the Marauders’. It seems silly now, but we all had nicknames and James and Sirius, they often pulled the rest of us into their schemes.”

“What was your name?”

“Moony. James was Prongs, Peter was Wormtail, and Sirius was Padfoot.”

“ _Padfoot_? What sort of a nickname is _that_?”

Lupin chuckled. “Yes, I suppose we thought ourselves very clever at the time. They were just more jokes.” He pulled a watch out of his pocket, glancing at the face and sighing. “I must be going. You should probably return too. Your aunt and uncle will be wondering where you got to.”

“If they’re home they will,” Arcturus muttered. “Thank you again, for the book. I should’ve gotten you something.”

Lupin shook his head, “I don’t need presents. Enjoy it.” They went their separate ways, but this time the break wouldn’t be as long as the last time. Now that Arcturus knew Lupin was there sometimes, he snuck out to the Muggle park more often. The first few times they met on coincidence again, until they started to arrange meetings, mostly around Marius and Ariadne’s schedules. At first Arcturus was a bit hesitant, mainly because he really didn’t know Lupin. He claimed to be Sirius’s friend, and certainly seemed to know quite a bit about Sirius, Lenora, and Arcturus himself, but he was still a stranger.

That was at first, though. After a while, Lupin ceased to be a stranger. He was a friend, and then sort of an uncle. A _real_ uncle, not the sort Uncle Marius was. He cared for Arcturus, genuinely, and talked to him about his father and mother (always before Sirius had committed murder and betrayed his friends and the entire wizarding world). Come spring, when Arcturus turned eleven and his uncle and aunt took him to Diagon Alley and bought him his first wand, Lupin began coaching him, mostly on the spells and hexes from the book he’d given Arcturus last Christmas. They never actually _did_ magic though, since they were out in the middle of a Muggle neighbourhood and Arcturus _was_ still underage. Lupin also told him about Hogwarts, which he’d be attending come fall.

Lenora had originally intended for her son to attend Durmstrang and had originally enrolled him there. But when Arcturus had come to live with Marius and Ariadne, they’d enrolled him at Hogwarts. In the summer, his Hogwarts letter came and he immediately snuck a Floo call and arranged to meet Lupin, or “Remus”, as he’d taken to calling him.

“Congratulations,” Lupin told him as soon as Arcturus had produced the coveted Hogwarts letter, beaming.

“I’m so excited to go,” he admitted. “I can’t wait to get out of that house.”

Lupin smiled. “I’m sure you will enjoy Hogwarts very much. Have your aunt and uncle said anything?”

“No, but they’ve been surly all day. Squibs and everything,” Arcturus shrugged. “Draco will be angry, that’s certain. He _hates_ that I’m a year older than him.”

“He will get his letter next year. Have you gone to get your things yet?”

“No, we’re going this Saturday. Can you meet us there?”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” he replied. “And unfortunately I have a prior engagement.”

Arcturus frowned, but nodded his understanding. Sometimes, “Uncle Remus” was busy. That’s just how adults were. He had to work, Arcturus didn’t.

“We’ll meet again before you leave on September 1st, though,” he promised. “I’ll even bring a cake and we’ll celebrate.”

That caused Arcturus to smile. “Okay,” he agreed.


	4. A Quiet Train Ride

Chapter 4: A Quiet Train Ride

As Arcturus predicted, Draco was pissed. Arcturus didn’t bring the letter, he didn’t want Draco stealing it and ripping it up. But he told his cousin and described his trip to Diagon Alley, buying his books, his robes, his cauldron, and the gift his aunt and uncle had bought him, a barn owl he’d jokingly named Striga. Arcturus could see Draco’s jealousy growing; he was practically turning green.

“Of course, you’ll be in Slytherin.”

Arcturus didn’t agree right away. He honestly wasn’t sure what house he’d be in. Lupin and Sirius had been in Gryffindor and Lenora had been in Ravenclaw. Either would be nice houses. But Arcturus knew that the family expected him to get into Slytherin.

“ _Every_ Black is in Slytherin,” Draco said.

“Not my dad,” Arcturus replied.

“And look where he ended up. Maybe if he was in Slytherin, he wouldn’t have gotten caught!”

Arcturus didn’t say anything in reply.

Draco wasn’t the only one who apparently expected him to be in Slytherin House. Everyone he saw congratulated him on his Hogwarts letter and started on about the Black family’s proud tradition of Slytherin. It quickly got to be annoying, actually. Eventually Arcturus just nodded his head and numbly agreed, even if that wasn’t really his own opinion. It was easier then suggesting that he might take after his father, and then getting all the odd looks and hearing more murmurs. After two years with his London-based relatives, Arcturus was finally ceasing to draw every eye as he passed and become the topic of every whispered conversation when he passed. He was still looked at sometimes, and let’s face it, the murder of thirteen Muggles and the betrayal of the Potters to You-Know-Who wasn’t something _anyone_ would truly forget. There were still whispered conversations, but they were less common. Now, Arcturus had gone from “the murderer’s son” to “the Black boy”, known more for his own eccentricities. After all, he _was_ a troublemaker and thank Merlin he was the Squibs’ problem rather than their own. But that just comes down to breeding. Look at his parents.

Come September 1st, Arcturus found himself very tired, but excited. He’d hardly been able to sleep at all the night before and had instead stayed up, looking through his schoolbooks and trying on his new school robes, admiring the image in the mirror. He couldn’t wait until they went to King’s Cross Station to board the Hogwarts Express on Platform 9¾. He couldn’t wait until they got to Hogwarts and he saw that first glimpse across the lake, the one that Lupin had told him was like no other sight he’d ever see. Come the first light of day, Arcturus dressed and double-checked that his trunk was thoroughly packed with everything from the now well-worn letter. Then he triple-checked, just to be sure. Striga went in her cage and all of it went thumping down the stairs behind Arcturus, effectively waking the Squibs, if they hadn’t been awake already. He ate breakfast and sat, staring at the large, old grandfather clock in the foyer, sitting on his trunk with Striga next to him. The time seemed to move along at a snail’s pace, like a wizard had purposefully slowed it. When at last it was time to leave, he leapt to his feet and gathered everything in anticipation. The Squibs were, of course, on time, and without a word, the three of them left the house and flagged down the Knight Bus.

King’s Cross Station was crowded with Muggles and Arcturus and his aunt and uncle had found themselves jostled more times than they could’ve counted. Each time, Aunt Ariadne’s face would go red and Uncle Marius’s lips would become thinner and thinner. When they finally came to the barrier before Platform 9 ¾, Arcturus had practically been holding his breath to keep from either laughing or saying something to get him in trouble so close to the beginning of term. He was surprised his aunt and uncle had managed to keep their tempers. But, he supposed they would have to, living as they did, more within the Muggle world than most from magical families. That was the nature of a Squib.

The platform beyond was just as busy as Muggle King’s Cross, however these were his “own kind”. Well, closer at least. Most were half-bloods or less and more than a handful were mudbloods. But he did see some of the families that he’d recognized from the pureblood society. Marius and Ariadne noticed too, and seemed to be gravitating in their direction, but they didn’t greet anyone, even if they knew them and didn’t move any closer than 10 metres. Arcturus though, didn’t care. He found a compartment and hauled his trunk inside, placing it on the rack before returning, not because he wanted to say a proper goodbye, but because Uncle Marius had requested it before.

“I expect only the best from you,” Marius said, his voice stern. “You will represent the House of Black as we have taught you. I will not tolerate mischief, is that understood?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Arcturus hissed, smirking. His uncle could threaten all he wanted, but in the end he couldn’t do anything to Arcturus all the way in Scotland. He couldn’t even make a Howler. Uncle Marius saw the smirk but like every other time, chose not to say anything. The truth was Marius only had control of Arcturus when Arcturus allowed him to, which was not often at all. The boy did what he wanted, regardless of whether or not Marius or Ariadne said he could. Confinement only had so much effect, which was almost non-existent on this boy. He was just like his murderer father.

Arcturus did not give Marius or Ariadne a hug, or even a “goodbye”. He merely glanced from uncle to aunt and then turned his back on them and climbed on the train. _‘_ Not that they’d care one way or the other,’ Arcturus thought as he found his compartment once more and sat down, preparing himself for a long train ride alone. Not that he’d mind. Arcturus liked trains, Muggle contraptions though they were. He liked to sit and watch the landscape go by and he liked the gentle rocking motion, smoother than any car or bus he’d ever rode on. You also had more room to spread out on a train, which was exactly what he did. Striga went on the seat next to him and he pulled down the book he’d been reading, settling in for the ride.

Unfortunately, a quiet train ride was apparently just not in the cards for Arcturus. No sooner had the train began to roll out of the station did the door burst open and two boys with bright red hair who looked identical spilled in, lugging battered trunks behind them.

“Cheers mate,” the first one in said. “I see this seat is empty so I’ll just—“He threw his trunk up into the rack with a grunt and then turned and helped the other boy, obviously his brother, with his own trunk. Both sat down across from Arcturus, grinning.

“We’re Fred and George Weasley,” the first twin said.

“Or Gred and Forge Weasley,” the other added.

Arcturus cocked an eyebrow. “Which of you is which?” he asked.

“I’m Fred,” the first offered.

“And I’m George,” added the second.

“But we’ll answer to either—“

“—so it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

The two went back and forth and Arcturus found he was already confused and the twins had only been in the compartment five minutes.

“But enough about us,” Fred, or was it George, cut in. “Who are you? First year?”

“Yeah,” Arcturus replied. “Arcturus Black.”

Immediately their faces fell. “Black, you say?”

‘And here is where it gets awkward,’ Arcturus thought. “Yeah, like the mass murderer.”

“No _way_!” George exclaimed. Arcturus definitely wasn’t expecting that sort of reaction. “As in _Sirius_ Black? _That_ Black?”

“He’s my father.”

“Wicked!” both grinned.

“Dad told us about him but Mum didn’t want him to,” Fred went on. “He killed twelve Muggles and that guy, P-something.”

“That’s him.”

“Bummer about Azkaban,” George commented. “So do you live with your mum?”

“My mum died two years ago. I live with my Squib aunt and uncle.” Arcturus picked his book back up, which happened to be the one Remus had gotten him last Christmas. It was dog-eared and worn already, but Arcturus wanted to make sure he knew all the spells before he got to Hogwarts, just in case.

“Whatcha got there?” George asked, turning his head and looking at the title.

“Practical Prankster, eh?” Fred read. “George, my boy, I think we picked the right compartment. That’s not a bad book, but the best make their own.”

“I know that,” Arcturus replied. “But I don’t know any spells yet. A friend gave me this, for my aunt and uncle.”

“Smart friend. Well, Georgie-boy, what do you think?”

“I think we can take him under our wings,” George replied. “It would be nice having another brain to do all the thinking, especially with Charlie graduating and Percy a stuck-up git. Unless, of course, you get sorted into Slytherin...”

“Not on your life,” Arcturus replied.

“Good man,” Fred approved. “I think we’ll get along swimmingly. Hm, ‘Arcturus’, interesting name.”

“It’s a _family_ name,” Arcturus grumbled. “Guardian of the bears or some sort of nonsense.”

“Better than _Bilius_ ,” George snorted. Fred made a face.

Arcturus couldn’t help it. He snorted. “Bilius?”

“Yeah, could you believe it? The nerve of some people,” George agreed, acting offended. “Luckily, our little brother, Ronniekins, is stuck with that name. It was a close call, though. Only two years.”

“Much too close,” Fred agreed.

“But enough about us. Tell us what it’s like living with Squibs!”

“Are they as bitter as everyone says?”

“Our great-grand-uncle, twice removed on mother’s side was a Squib. Didn’t actually meet him, though.”

Arcturus found his head turning back and forth between the two like the Muggles did at Wimbledon. It seemed the Weasley twins didn’t only share a face, but a brain as well. Or twin telepathy wasn’t really a myth. That was the only way Arcturus could explain the speed at which they switched back and forth. At first it was confusing, but Arcturus began to pick up on their rhythm as the train ride continued and soon he was able to follow along decently, though he still sometimes mixed up which twin was which.

“Don’t worry about that, Rus,” Fred told him, after Arcturus had accidentally called him “George”.

“Our own mum does it too and she’s known us for twelve whole years.”

“Not counting those 9 glorious months before hand.”

“Ugh!” Arcturus exclaimed, clamping his hands over his ears.

“Part of nature, Arcturus, old boy!” Fred grinned.

“That doesn’t mean you have to bring it up!” Arcturus retorted.

“ _Arcturus_ , may I call you Archie?”

“No,” Arcturus replied.

Fred and George both switched sides, moving Striga and sitting on either side of Arcturus. They slung their arms over his shoulders, getting much too close for Arcturus’s comfort. He sat straighter and prepared to move, but Fred and George stopped him.

“If you’re going to hang out with us—“

“—don’t be so _Sirius_ ,” George finished.

“Great pun,” Arcturus replied dryly.

“That’s more like it.” They shifted back and Fred moved to replace Striga. “Cool owl.”

“Thanks,” Arcturus replied. “She was a birthday present, the only nice thing my aunt and uncle have really done for me. Everything else was really more because they had to.”

“What’s her name?”

“Striga.”

“Striga?”

“It’s Romanian. I lived there with my mom. In mythology, the strigoi were vampires, the immortal kind. They could transform into animals, including barn owls, turn invisible, and drained their victims of all their blood.”

“Wicked,” both twins said.

There was a loud thump in the corridor and all three looked up to see a girl in mismatched clothes face plant in the middle of the passage.

“Whoa there!” George jumped up and threw open their door. He and Fred helped the girl to her feet. “You alright?”

She brushed back a lock of royal blue hair and dusted herself off quickly. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she replied. “Do that a lot. Ow,” she winced, rubbing her elbow. She looked up finally and grinned. “Cool hair.” Her face screwed up in concentration a moment and then her hair changed to match the shade of Fred and George’s. “You’re Bill and Charlie’s little brothers, aren’t you?”

“Normally we go by Fred and George,” Fred replied.

“Or Gred and Forge,” George added. Apparently they were trying to make the nicknames stick.

“I’m Tonks. I’m in Charlie’s year, but Hufflepuff.”

“Ah, explains everything.”

“We thought we knew all the Gryffindors.”

“’Hufflepuff’,” Fred mused. “Has such promise...Don’t you agree, Forge?”

“Absolutely, Gred.”

Tonks chuckled. She looked over at Arcturus and then looked surprised. “You are...?”

“Only the guy who’s been sitting here the whole time. This is Arcturus Black, though we’ve been trying out a few nicknames. What do you think of ‘Turo’?”

“Or maybe ‘Little Black’?”

“How about ‘Black Bear’?

“Or just plain ‘A’?”

“My name is _Arcturus_ ,” Arcturus corrected, rolling his eyes.

“Black,” Tonks finished. “Who is your dad?”

“That’s the best part!” Fred added.

“None other than notorious mass murderer—“

“—Sirius Black!”

“My mom was a Black.”

“Was,” Arcturus repeated.

“Was?”

“As in, she’s not anymore. She was disowned.”

Tonks nodded. “For marrying my dad. He’s Muggle-born.”

“You’re in good company, then,” George replied. “Your mom was disowned; Arcturus’s dad was sentenced to life in prison...”

“You have so much in common!” Fred added.

“Not really,” Arcturus replied.

“Are you a first year?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t worry, everything will be fine.”

“I’m not. My friend told me a lot about Hogwarts.”

“Would this be the same friend who gave you that book? The smart one?”

“Yes.”

Tonks got up and brushed off her clothes again, seemingly more out of habit then actual need. “Well I must be going. I was on my way to sit with some friends. You might consider changing soon. I will.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

“Nice hair.”

“Try to keep the floor _under_ your feet.”

“And don’t let gravity get you down.”

Tonks laughed again. “Thanks. See you later.”


	5. Family Tradition

Chapter 5: Family Tradition

Upon arrival, Arcturus, Fred, and George all went their own ways, Fred and George following the main stream of students while Arcturus headed for the large figure booming, “Firs’ years! Firs’ years this way!” He rose up over the crowd and probably would have even if they’d all been fully-grown adults. Arcturus moved closer with the other first year students and wondered what could’ve caused the man’s size.

‘Either a growth potion out of control, or he’s half-giant,’ Arcturus concluded. He was inclined more towards the second. It wasn’t common, but not unheard of. As Arcturus watched the man move around the group carrying his huge lantern and trailed by a large boarhound, and he wondered which temperament had won out. Giants could be short-tempered and incredibly thick. Whoever this guy was, was he the same? Only one way to find out.

“Are we just going to _stand_ here all night?” Arcturus asked, loudly, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Jus’ makin’ sure everyone’s here,” the half-giant replied.

“Obviously we are, unless you can’t count that high.” Arcturus might have felt bad about what he was saying, except the half-giant took that time to turn around and look right at Arcturus.

“Shoulda known it’d be you,” he said. “No need ta be rude. We’re goin’. Firs’ years, this way!” And he turned and began leading them down a trail, away from the platform at Hogsmeade, the magical village near Hogwarts.

‘Should’ve known it’d be me? What’s that supposed to mean?’ Arcturus wondered. He didn’t even know who this guy was, unless it was another thing like with Lupin. Did the half-giant know his father, or maybe his mother? Had he known _him_ as a baby?

They followed the half-giant down the path through the dark. It’d taken all day to reach Hogwarts and the anticipation was almost palpable.

“Jus’ up ahead ye’ll catch yer firs’ look at Hogwarts!” the half-giant called. They rounded a bend and came to a large, dark lake, the Black Lake, from what Lupin had told Arcturus. They’d have to cross it, as a sort of tradition for first years. Sure enough, down at the shore was a fleet of small boats, each sporting their own lantern and waiting for the first years to board. But those weren’t what caught all the attention.

Rising up in the night was the castle itself. Lupin had told Arcturus that it was the most breath-taking sight he’d ever seen, and Arcturus could easily see why. The castle stood impressive before them, surreal even for the Magical world. Hundreds, if not thousands of lights shown throughout the castle, making it look like a cluster of stars against the dark background. The towers each rose over everything, piercing the night sky. It was ancient, majestic, and ethereal; Arcturus couldn’t wait to arrive.

The first years stumbled down the slope to the boats. It might’ve been easier to walk properly, had they not all been transfixed by Hogwarts castle. They climbed in and with a command, began making their way across the lake. The sky was slightly cloudy but the waxing gibbous gave enough light that between it and the lanterns, Arcturus could see everything around him well enough. The surface of the Black Lake rippled off the bow of their little row boats, inky, concealing whatever may be lurking just beneath the surface. Apparently there was a Giant Squid.

They passed under a row of vines and into a dock under the castle itself. As the boats bumped against the stone, the first years and half-giant climbed out and gathered on the dock. He led them up a set of stairs and into a large hall and then a side room of the main doors.

“Wait ‘ere,” the half-giant told them. “Professor McGonagall‘ll be ‘ere soon.”

The new first year students milled around in the side room, anxiously awaiting the arrival of Professor McGonagall and the official beginning of their Hogwarts careers. Arcturus couldn’t help but feel a bit of that nervousness as well, even though Lupin had regaled him with plenty of stories of Hogwarts. Still, what would it be like? Where would he be placed? Who would he meet along the way? Thus far, Arcturus had been relatively cut off from other children of his age. He had Malfoy and his goonies, but that was only at formal events, and even then, Arcturus didn’t really count them as friends. Malfoy was more of a “sparring partner”.

Eventually the door opened and a stern witch with her hair tightly pulled back in a knot at the base of her neck and her hat perched on her head severely, entered. Professor McGonagall looked over the first years with a sharp eye, scrutinizing their appearance before begrudgingly giving a small nod of approval.

“Welcome to Hogwarts. In a few moments, we will go into the Great Hall and you will be Sorted into one of the four Houses. They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. While you are here, your House will be your family. Successes will earn points for your House, while rule breaking will cost points. At the end of the year, the House that has succeeded in gaining the most points will be awarded the House Cup, a coveted honour.

“Now, please assemble in a straight line and we will enter the Great Hall.”

The first years all shuffled into place and Arcturus found himself towards the middle of the group, next to a taller boy with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Arcturus immediately didn’t like him. When the first years were adequately assembled, McGonagall led the way out of the side room, across the entrance, through the two large doors into the Great Hall.

Hogwarts seemed just as magnificent as Lupin had described it. The Great Hall was packed full of students, and every one of them watched the new first years as they filed down the row between the two centre tables. Most of Arcturus’s peers looked frightened. But Arcturus was too busy drinking all of it in. He’d dreamed of being here since the first time Lupin had described the Great Hall with its four House tables, the floating candles, and the infamous bewitched ceiling that showed the sky. It was straight out of his imaginings; only ten times better because it _wasn’t_ an imagining. He was really, truly _there_.

The first years crowded up around the front of the hall where Professor McGonagall had placed a much worn stool and an even older hat. They flocked closer, those in the back attempting to get a better look at what those in the front were staring at. The entire hall fell silent as a line of stitching sprung open and the hat began to sing. Arcturus listened, along with the rest of the school, as it sang about the four Houses of Hogwarts and each of their respective founders. Lupin had explained the Houses and the traits that each valued in their members. Gryffindors were brave, Slytherins cunning and ambitious. Ravenclaws were clever and valued knowledge while Hufflepuffs were hard working and loyal. Arcturus knew, though, that he was expected to get into Slytherin. Every Black got into Slytherin, well except his father. And look where he ended up!

But Arcturus wasn’t all that interested in what was expected of him. Many people expected things of him, and they were mostly disappointed. Marius and Ariadne had expected him to be an obedient child and polite, but Arcturus went out of his way to deliberately disobey. He was “just like that murderer father of his”.

When the hat finished, the whole hall burst into applause although Arcturus had heard better before. It seems a singing hat impresses, though. McGonagall stepped forward and began calling names.

“Anderson, Avery.”

A short, very frightened boy stepped up, the first alphabetically and the first of the new class to be Sorted. He sat on the stool and McGonagall placed the hat on his head. It didn’t take long at all for the seam to open again and the Sorting Hat to declare, “Ravenclaw!”

Anderson, Avery took off the hat and hurried to join his new House amidst general, good-natured applause.

“Black, Arcturus.”

Arcturus had assumed he’d be soon and was ready to step up when McGonagall called his name. He sauntered up, mustering up all the nonchalance he could, but inside he couldn’t help but be a little nervous. What if he _was_ put in Slytherin? True, that was technically where he was supposed to go, but he didn’t like the thought of dark, dank dungeons or living up to his extended family’s expectations. But if he didn’t go to Slytherin, where would he be placed?

Suddenly, Arcturus wasn’t feeling so self-assured, but he was already seated on the stool and McGonagall was placing the Sorting Hat on his head. It was too late to go back now.

“Ah, a _Black_ ,” murmured the hat in his ear. “But you do not wish for Slytherin? Hm, well with your background, I suppose it should be...Gryffindor!”

The red table cheered loudest as Arcturus took off the hat and climbed from the stool. He felt extraordinarily relieved. Gryffindor was a good house. Remus had been from there, as had his father, but Arcturus chose to ignore that detail. Every House had a rotten egg. He spotted Fred and George Weasley where they moved aside, creating a gap between the two of them where he could sit. Before Arcturus could really think about the possible consequences of such a seat, he took the spot on the bench, immediately being enveloped into the Gryffindor fold.

“Welcome!” Fred greeted.

“Knew we chose wisely,” George added.

Sitting with the Weasley twins were two more boys with the same bright red hair. One was only a couple of years older than Fred and George, but the other was obviously a seventh year and wore a Gryffindor Quidditch Captain’s badge and a prefect’s badge. The younger of the two turned to face Arcturus, head up, shoulders stiff.

“I do not believe we have been introduced. I am Percy Weasley. Welcome to Gryffindor House.” He held out his hand and Arcturus shook it, the whole exchange very stiff and formal, not at all what he’d expected from Fred and George’s brother, even an _older_ brother.

“Aw, lighten up, Perce,” the yet older boy said. He grinned at Arcturus good-naturedly. “I’m Charlie, Fred, George, and Percy’s brother.”

“Nice to meet you,” Arcturus replied, feeling immediately more at ease and relieved that the _entire_ Weasley family didn’t act like they had a wand up their butts bigger than Uncle Marius’s.

“Don’t worry about Percy,” Charlie murmured to him as the other turned back to watch the Sorting. “He’ll lighten up. I think Fred and George are working on him. Welcome to the Lion’s Den.”

After a big feast, the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, stood up to make what Arcturus assumed was his standard, start-of-year speech. Lupin had had nothing but good to say about Dumbledore, to the point that Arcturus was fairly certain Lupin thought Dumbledore crapped roses and daffodils. Granted, a speech that had been given, no doubt, a hundred times before was hardly the best medium to judge the Headmaster for himself. Still, Arcturus hadn’t really seen or heard anything that would immediately make him hate Dumbledore. But the school term was still young and Arcturus was still a wide-eyed innocent little first year in the eyes of the Hogwarts staff. He’d reserve judgement for later, when he’d find out just how great this Dumbledore was.

Already Arcturus knew he was going to clash with the Gryffindor Head of House, none other than Professor McGonagall herself. She struck him as the no nonsense, “strict but fair” sort of professor, which didn’t really go well with Arcturus’s general troublemaker attitude. What he really needed was easy-going and biased to all things Gryffindor, otherwise he had a strong feeling that big shiny hourglass that tallied the House points would remain almost as empty as it was now. Still, Fred and George assured him that McGonagall was okay.

“She’s a sweet lady at heart,” Fred joked.

“We’re two of her favourites,” George added, to Charlie’s snort of cynicism.

“Charlie, bro, you wound us,” Fred acted hurt.

“Just wait for the hysterics until we’ve made it through the first couple of weeks. Gryffindor needs to build up a point base before you try to send us into the negatives,” Charlie replied.

Fred and George shrugged. “Fair enough.”

After the feast, Charlie and another girl prefect led Arcturus and his fellow first years up to the dormitory, all the way at the top of Gryffindor Tower. It was quite the climb and Arcturus groaned as he resigned himself to the fact that he’d have to make it probably hundreds of times in the next seven years.

“Hey there, mate,” It was the boy Arcturus recognized as the conceited git from before the Sorting. “Cormac McLaggen.”

“Arcturus Black,” he half-growled through compressed lungs. He’d really need to get in better shape if he was going to do this multiple times a day.

“Yes, I remember,” McLaggen replied. “Although I was surprised to see you in Gryffindor. The McLaggen family has a history in this House, of course, but I’ve always heard the Blacks prefer Slytherin House.”

Arcturus shrugged. “Felt like a change in scenery, I guess.” The McLaggen berk was getting on his nerves already and they hadn’t even made it to the dormitory yet.

“What do your parents have to say about that? I imagine they wouldn’t be too thrilled.”

“Wouldn’t know, they’re dead,” Arcturus growled. Well, it was basically true. It wasn’t like his father was ever getting out of that hell hole, and Arcturus didn’t want to see him even if he did.

At least McLaggen had enough tact to look mildly apologetic after that, but he still acted like an ass. A stuck-up ass who didn’t know when to shut his pie hole. Arcturus didn’t look forward to having to room with him for the next seven years. _Please let my bed be on the opposite side of the room._

Charlie led the boys up to their dormitory while the girl took the first year girls. They climbed up a few more sets of stairs until coming to the door marked “1”.

“This is the first year boys’ dormitory,” Charlie said. “Your trunks should already be up. Sleep tight.” He turn descended back to the warm common room, leaving the group to stare at the closed door, waiting for someone to make the first move. Arcturus rolled his eyes and pushed forward, turning the handle and opening the door to a small, circular dormitory with beds around the circumference and a heater at the centre. Each bed had a trunk at the foot of it. Now that the door was open and someone else had taken the first step inside, the other boys in Arcturus’s year pushed past, searching for their trunk and bed. Arcturus found his, second from the door. He almost groaned too when the McLaggen bloke took the bed nearest the door, opening the trunk at the foot.

“Well it looks like the elves didn’t jostle my trunk too badly,” he commented, sorting through his school robes and the various other knickknacks in the large trunk with his initials in gold leafing and a roaring lion on the side. Arcturus rolled his eyes and went to his own trunk to find things fairly intact as well. He glanced around the dormitory at the six other boys he shared the room with. Hopefully at least one of them wasn’t as big a git as McLaggen, otherwise this would be a long seven years spent _outside_ the dormitory. There was a boy with darker skin on the other side of his bed that didn’t look too bad. At least he wasn’t haughtily going on about the lack of “good help” nowadays. Arcturus stood up and made his way over to him, mustering up a bit of a smile.

“Hi. I’m Arcturus Black,” he greeted. The other boy looked up, obviously sizing him up. But apparently he was okay with what he found because he smiled back.

“Lee Jordan,” he replied, taking Arcturus’s proffered hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Arcturus replied.

“Like Fizzing Whizzbees?” Lee Jordan asked, holding up a big box from his trunk. “My mum gave me a whole pack.” Lee opened the box and held out the sweet to Arcturus.

“Sure,” Arcturus replied, though he really hadn’t eaten many sweets since coming to live with his aunt and uncle. But, as he was munching on the sweet and it was crackling on his tongue, Arcturus decided he just might like Lee Jordan and might actually be able to get along with him. At the very least, sharing a box of Fizzing Whizzbees was a good start. Maybe the next seven years in Gryffindor wouldn’t be so bad after all.


	6. The Lion's Den

Chapter 6: The Lion’s Den

During the day at Marius and Ariadne’s house, Arcturus had been bored most of the time. This wasn’t the case at Hogwarts. Not in the slightest. Every day at Hogwarts was full of classes in charms, transfiguration, potions, herbology, astronomy, every subject Arcturus could hope for. He learned how to turn a match into a needle and back again. He learned how to make things float through the air and how to unlock doors, a particularly useful skill in Arcturus’s opinion. But the best part of all, Arcturus made friends. Real friends, not fake ones like Malfoy and his lot claimed to be. Fred and George quickly took on the roles of guide and mentor, although most of the time Arcturus ended up in the complete opposite end of the castle from where he wanted to go or in McGonagall’s classroom, serving detention for something the twins cooked up. But Arcturus didn’t really mind it because along with Fred and George, Arcturus had Lee. Lee Jordan was quickly taken in with the Weasley twins as well and soon became Arcturus’s partner in crime. They did everything together. In fact, Lee was serving detention cleaning out cauldrons by hand alongside Arcturus for purposefully tossing extra horned slugs in Hestia Carrow’s Boil-Cure Potion. But in their defence, she shouldn’t have left it unattended. Someone could’ve thrown just _anything_ in there. She was lucky all that happened was a nice change in colour and a few hissing sparks.

Professor Snape, the Potions Master, sat at his desk but still managing to breathe down Arcturus’s neck as he cleaned the cauldrons. It hadn’t taken Arcturus long to figure out that Snape hated him, beyond the normal Gryffindor hatred that the Head of Slytherin House harboured for all those in the rival house. Arcturus was fairly certain that even if he’d been Sorted into Slytherin and had become one of Snape’s snakes, the greasy git would still hate him. With a vindictive streak Arcturus had only seen in a few.

“Jordan, you may go,” Snape told Lee. Lee shot Arcturus an apologizing glance but didn’t hesitate to leave. Arcturus didn’t blame him. They’d been cleaning cauldrons for hours, and most of the potions ingredients were pretty nasty.

“What are you waiting for, _Black_ ,” Snape sneered at Arcturus. “Keep scrubbing.”

Arcturus waited until Snape had turned around before sticking his tongue out at the grouchy professor’s back.

“Twenty points from Gryffindor,” Snape declared.

“For what?” Arcturus demanded without thinking.

“For disrespecting a professor and another ten points for the tone. Keep scrubbing.”

Arcturus wanted to show Snape just _how much_ he disrespected the Potions professor, but didn’t. Snape would just give him yet another detention, and Arcturus didn’t really want to miss the upcoming Gryffindor-Hufflepuff Quidditch match. It’d been the talk of the house after Charlie Weasley’s tryouts where he’d picked up three second-years, Angelina Johnson as a chaser and his own brothers Fred and George as beaters. Arcturus was just looking forward to watching Fred and George’s antics on broomsticks in front of the entire school. It was sure to be a good show and Arcturus wouldn’t put it by Snape to assign him detention right during the middle of the game. It was just the sort of git Snape was.

As Arcturus scrubbed, he imagined all the things he could do to get back at Snape. The professor only ever wore black. Perhaps he’d enjoy a change in colour, perhaps something that could really bring out the bottomless darkness of his eyes. Arcturus thought he knew just the spell, but he’d have to talk it over with Fred and George for the flourish, and maybe he’d get away with it. After all, hexing a professor was dangerous business. Detention at least, but if Snape was feeling particularly vindictive, and with Arcturus he usually was, Snape might even be able to have Arcturus expelled. No way was Arcturus going to spend all his time with the Squibs, and Durmstrang was a bit too cold and dingy for Arcturus’s taste. He would rather have to spend the majority of the year in the arctic tundra.

Somehow, Arcturus managed to get through the rest of the detention with Snape without doing anything to merit another. Snape tried, but all he could do was take another thirty points from Gryffindor for Arcturus’s apparently shoddy cleaning job before dismissing him with directions to return straight to Gryffindor Tower and a threat of more detentions if he found out that Arcturus had made any side stops.

“Yes, Professor,” Arcturus replied.

“Another ten points from Gryffindor for the tone,” Snape sneered. “Leave.”

Arcturus didn’t bother opening his mouth, he just left. Snape would take points from him for breathing through his mouth rather than his nose.

“Stupid wanker,” Arcturus grumbled as he climbed the steps from the dungeons, all the way up to Gryffindor Tower and came to the portrait of the Fat Lady who guarded the Gryffindor common room.

“Bumbershoot,” Arcturus told the painting.

“I daresay you’ll need one for the match tomorrow,” the Fat Lady replied, glancing out the window at the large storm clouds rolling in. She swung open and Arcturus stepped inside.

“Archie! What are you still doing out of bed at this hour, you little rascal!” Fred called from one of the tables at the side of the room. Arcturus joined him, George, and Lee at the table.

“Sorry about that, mate,” Lee apologized.

“Don’t worry. You know how the git is,” Arcturus reassured his friend.

“Sure has it in for you, doesn’t he, Surutcra?” commented George.

Arcturus raised an eyebrow, fighting back a grin. “Surutcra?”

Fred shrugged for George. “We’re still experimenting with the nicknames,” he replied. “Though I think your name backwards might be longer than your name forwards.”

“Of course it’s not, idiot,” George retorted. “It’s the same amount of letters.”

“I told you, it’s just Arcturus,” Arcturus cut in, before the twins could start in on another “argument”.

“Alright, alright. So what are you going to do to get back at the dungeon bat, Blacky-boy?”

Arcturus shrugged, choosing to ignore the stupid name. “I don’t know. I was thinking that maybe Professor Snape could use some colour in his life. He always looks so washed out in all black.”

Fred and George nodded, “Couldn’t agree more.”

“But how are you going to do it? You can’t hex a teacher. You’ll be expelled,” Lee said.

“Yeah, not to mention Snape’s too smart to fall for anything with a potion,” Arcturus added. “I doubt he even uses shampoo anyways.” Arcturus looked to the twins. “I was actually hoping you guys would have an idea of how to pull it off.”

“Hm,” Fred stroked a non-existent beard. “Tricky, tricky. I’m assuming you’d want this to be a public retaliation.”

“Of course. The more people who can see Snape with pink hair, the better.”

“I think there is much, much more potential in this little scheme,” George said. “After all, why just stop with his hair?”

Arcturus grinned. “Of course not. I was actually thinking that maybe Professor Snape could display his Gryffindor colours at breakfast tomorrow, before the match? It doesn’t give us much time but...”

“It would make quite a show, not to mention boost house morale. An _excellent_ idea, Twinkle.”

Arcturus was brought up short at the most recent attempt. “’ _Twinkle’_? Really?”

“Yeah, as in ‘Twinkle, twinkle, little star’. Keep up, boy!”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Why thank you!”

They spent the next hour planning the mode of attack before moving on to the homework that none of them had even started. Arcturus attempted to write the Potions essay, but all he could think about was what they had planned for their dear Professor Snape the next morning. He’d _hate_ it, but unless he caught them right in the middle of it, there was no way Snape would be able to prove that Arcturus, Fred, George, and Lee had been behind it. There was some work to do.


	7. Like Dear, Old Dad

Chapter 7: Like Dear, Old Dad

Between his detentions with Snape and being Sorted into Gryffindor House, Arcturus knew it was only a matter of days until an owl dropped a letter in his morning eggs. Sure enough, it came as Fred, George, Arcturus, and Lee had their heads together and were discussing their plans for that evening. Tomorrow morning was the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff Quidditch match, and also the day they would implement their scheme.

The only good thing about living with Squibs is that they couldn’t send a Howler if they wanted to. But Fred and George seemed to know what the letter was before Arcturus even opened it.

“Tough luck, Archie ole’ boy,” Fred told him as he and George leaned back, like the letter in Arcturus’s hands would explode at any second.

“You don’t even know what it is,” Arcturus retorted. “Maybe it’s money.”

“Oh, we’ve received enough of _those_ letters in our time,” George assured him, sagely. He and Fred were just a year older than Arcturus, but at times they acted as if they had been at Hogwarts for decades. “Funny it’s not a Howler, though.”

“Perks of living with Squibs,” Arcturus grumbled. He used his knife to cut the Black Family seal open, ensuring he got sausage grease all over it before taking out the neatly folded parchment full of his Uncle’s flowing and precise handwriting.

“ _Arcturus,_

 _Since your mother died and you came to live with your aunt and I, we have done our best to ensure you became a fine, Pureblood young man in which our family could take pride in. I am, therefore, very disappointed to hear that you have not only been Sorted into Gryffindor house, the same house which so failed your convicted father, but that you have also earned numerous detentions. This is unacceptable behaviour for an heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Furthermore, you have taken up companionship with the middle sons of the Weasley family, troublemakers in their own right. As you may not be aware, having not been part of the High Society of Wizarding Britain for long, the Weasley family is known for its poverty. Any wealth they had was gambled away long ago. They are also blood traitors, siding against Purebloods, their own kind, and supporting the mingling of Wizarding blood with Muggles and Muggle-borns. These are not the sort of people you want to be affiliated with. I urge you to_ strongly _rethink your choices. Your time at Hogwarts will affect your future beyond school. Now is the time to cultivate relationships that will be beneficial, not only to yourself, but to the family at large. Make the proper choices; do_ not _follow in your father’s footsteps. They are a one-way path to Azkaban and ruin._

_Sincerely yours,_

_Uncle Marius.”_

As he read the letter, Arcturus felt the burning grow in his stomach and he glared at the parchment until he didn’t even see the words. The last parting jab repeated itself in his head, mocking him. “ _Do not follow in your father’s footsteps.”_ Ever since Arcturus had found out who his father was, he’d made a point to ensure he wasn’t like him. Uncle Marius knew this, and he used it masterfully. If Marius had ever attended Hogwarts, he would have been a true Slytherin, through and through.

Arcturus crumbled the parchment up and threw it on the plate. With one harsh stab of his wand it burst into flame, drawing the attention of half the hall.

“Whoa!” the Weasleys exclaimed and somebody had the presence of mind to throw water on the fire, leaving a puddle of swampy ashes on his plate.

“Mr. Black! The breakfast table is _not_ the place to practice dangerous spells!” Professor McGonagall scolded.

“Sorry, Professor,” Arcturus murmured, looking appropriately contrite. “It was an accident. I was just trying to levitate my spoon.”

McGonagall was not convinced. “Hm, well less ‘flick’ and more ‘swish’ next time, Mr. Black.”

“Thank you, Professor.” As McGonagall retreated, Fred, George, and Lee leaned in again.

“That bad?” Fred asked.

Arcturus’s eyes burned, but it wasn’t from McGonagall’s scolding, or even hurt at his uncle’s letter. He was angry. Marius thought he was making the wrong choices by befriending the Weasleys and having a little bit of fun, but he hadn’t seen anything yet.

“We need something big,” Arcturus said suddenly. “Something everyone will notice. It can’t just be for Snape anymore.”

Fred and George smirked with mischievous gleams in their eyes. But Lee seemed hesitant.

“We already have detention for a month,” Lee complained.

Arcturus waved his hand dismissively. “We’ve done _kid_ things. My _uncle_ thinks I’m creating the wrong image. He’s an ass and I want to show him and everybody else exactly what ‘image’ I want.”

“Is this about _you_ or us?” Lee demanded.

“Us. Now our chance to establish ourselves.”

Fred turned to George and slung an arm over his shoulder with a heavy sigh. “Georgie-boy, we’ve created a monster.”

The twins grinned at each other. “We’re in,” they said.

Lee still looked hesitant, but Arcturus and the twins looked at him expectantly and he groaned. “I’m never going to get out of detention, am I?”

“Free time is for goodies like _Percy_ ,” George scoffed, nodding towards his older brother who was sitting and diligently studying even though there was a pretty girl right next to him, obviously trying to strike up a conversation. Just the image was enough of a deterrent.

Arcturus grinned. “C’mon, Lee, it’ll be fun.”

“ _C’mon, Lee, it’ll be fun_ ,” Lee muttered as he slogged down yet another staircase behind Arcturus, Fred, and George. Each had a sack of supplies over his shoulder that swayed and bounced strangely as he walked.

“This _is_ fun,” Arcturus hissed back. “And it will be even better tomorrow morning.” He led the way down the last flight of stairs and, checking to see that the way was clear, slipped across the entrance hall to the large wooden doors that closed off the Great Hall.

“This weighs a ton!” Lee complained, shucking his sack from his shoulder.

“Didn’t you use a feather-light charm?”

Lee blinked and Arcturus fought to look innocent but he couldn’t help a smirk.

“You’re cleaning all my cauldrons in detention,” Lee retorted. “Are we doing this or not?”

Arcturus and Fred pushed open one of the doors of the Great Hall and held it as George and Lee slipped inside with the supplies. They closed it carefully behind them so that there was only a very gentle _thump_. The castle was asleep, but there might still be some professors out patrolling the corridors. Arcturus wouldn’t put it by Snape to be out this late. The Great Hall stretched out before them; the four House tables were completely empty of even plates and utensils. Overhead the enchanted ceiling twinkled softly with stars and moonlight, providing light for them to work. It was like Hogwarts wanted them to succeed. As Arcturus looked out over this peaceful, blank canvas he could picture his masterpiece like a famous artist.

“Let’s get to work, boys.”

It was nearly time to get up for classes again by the time Arcturus and the others slipped back into Gryffindor tower, much to the Fat Lady’s disapproval. Lee, Fred, and George headed for the stairs to the boys’ dormitories right away, but Arcturus lingered behind.

“Aren’t you coming?” George asked.

“I’m not tired,” Arcturus replied. “I’ll see you in a little bit.”

George shrugged and warned him not to have any wild parties without them before climbing the stairs after his brother. The common room was dim; the fire had been banked long ago. In the corner a third year boy had fallen asleep on his Ancient Runes book and it seemed his friends had left him there rather than bringing him up to bed. The boy was drooling on his essay, smudging the words. Arcturus, for his part, was near to bursting with energy. Sneaking around the castle at night got his blood pumping as any moment they could run into a ghost, a professor, or Filch and his cat Mrs. Norris. Sometimes even the portraits would try to rat on them, but Fred and George knew how to handle them. A blind-fold on those particularly prone to finking was enough in most cases. That night they’d gotten in and out without being seen, with only one close call on the fourth floor by Mrs. Norris. As Arcturus paced around the common room, trying to burn off his energy, he remembered that he hadn’t spoken to Remus in a while. They had gotten together once more in the park before Arcturus had left for school and Arcturus promised he would write and Remus promised the same. Arcturus hadn’t sent Striga even once yet. But he would fix that.

With the hands of a pickpocket, Arcturus slipped a piece of parchment out from under the boys nose and swiped the quill and pot of ink before settling down at a table in front of the low fire. He carefully dipped the quill in ink as he tried to think of what to say.

“ _Dear Remus,_

 _Hogwarts is everything you said it would be. I was Sorted into Gryffindor House, just like you were. I’ve also made friends with Lee Jordan who is in my year, and Fred and George Weasley who are second years. You would like the Weasleys. They have a great sense of humour. I’ve already been in detention a few times. Snape, our Potions Professor, is a prick. He is Head of Slytherin House and hates Gryffindors, but I think he especially hates me. It doesn’t matter. We’ve got something_ big _planned. My uncle thinks I’m not making the right choices and that I’ll end up like my father. He’s wrong. I’m not like my father and I won’t ever be. I’m not a murderer.”_

Arcturus paused, frowning at the drying ink on the parchment. He hadn’t meant to say all that. Quickly he crumbled the letter up and tossed it into the fire. He swiped another piece of parchment and this time scribbled just a brief note.

_“Dear Remus,_

_I was Sorted into Gryffindor House. Hogwarts is great. I can’t write too much but I’ve got something big planned. Tell you more later._

_Yours,_

_Arcturus.”_

The sun was beginning to rise as he folded the letter and addressed it.

“I’m sorry sir, I—“the third year, who suddenly startled awake, blinked owlishly and looked around in confusion. He muttered unintelligibly before he spotted Arcturus with quill in hand and realized his was missing.

“Hey, that’s mine!”

“Just borrowing it, mate,” Arcturus replied, before tossing the quill and pot back on the table and disappearing out the Gryffindor portrait hole, leaving the confused third year behind. Now that the sun was out, the castle was stirring awake. Arcturus purposefully skirted around the Great Hall on his way down to the Owlery. A few students were up as well and were making their way to breakfast, excitedly chattering about the game that day. As Arcturus climbed up to the Owlery, he tried to avoid stepping in owl poop but in the end had to _Scourgify_ his shoes. Still, Striga was fast becoming a small brown dot in the distance as she carried Remus’ letter away. By the time Arcturus showered and went down to breakfast, dressed in Gryffindor colours like his house-mates, the school was alive and abuzz. Fred and George, wearing their Gryffindor team robes and carrying their brooms, intercepted him in the entrance hall.

“Snape just went inside,” George said quietly.

“We’ll give it a few moments, and then I’ll give the trigger,” Arcturus whispered back. “Wood would skin us alive if he lost his two Beaters just an hour before the first game.”

Fred and George agreed. The three of them entered the hall and Fred and George went to sit with the rest of the team while Arcturus sat with Lee who was looking decidedly pale as he went through the motions of eating breakfast without actually swallowing a bite.

“Are you sure about this?”

Arcturus nodded confidently. “This will be one for the record books.” He made eye contact with Fred and George down the way, and winked before muttering under his breath.

“Go, go Gryffindor.”

Suddenly the enchanted ceiling, which had been displaying a fair, sunny day, seemed to coalesce into thousands of bludger-size orbs in red and gold. They swarmed around the ceiling forming words. “Time to Show Your School PRIDE.” Then a lion burst through the words, scattering the orbs in all directions. Gryffindors cheered as the orbs raced through the hall, more than a few of them swarming around Professor Snape who tried to vanish them, and as the magic lion gave a great roar, every orb in the hall burst, spraying anyone nearby in red and gold paint.

The result was mayhem and Arcturus sat in the middle of it all, splattered in gold paint and laughing great, barking laughs. Across from him, Lee blinked through a face of red paint, and as he saw Arcturus, he smiled and laughed too.


	8. Revenge and Relatives

Chapter 8: Revenge and Relatives

Despite the best efforts of the professors, Arcturus and his cohorts went unpunished for their game-day prank. Still, Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall always looked to them as if they knew, they just didn’t have the evidence to punish them. That was fine with Arcturus, except now Snape had it doubly out for him. Just him, not the Weasleys or Lee. By the time Halloween came around he’d cleaned every cauldron Snape had at least five times and he’d done more detentions with Filch than anyone else in the school. He and Filch were actually getting along well, if “well” meant Filch knew him by name and gave him a twisted sort of smile and grimace every time he walked into the office. All the dirtiest tasks Filch saved for Arcturus and of course he wasn’t allowed to do magic.

“You could become a fine janitor some day, Archie ole’ boy,” George joked with him as Arcturus knelt in the boys’ bathroom scrubbing with a little hand brush. Fred and George had taken to hanging around while Arcturus did his tasks and in some cases, if they were feeling particularly generous, they would help.

“Stupid Snape,” Arcturus muttered as he scrubbed. He imagined the brush had steel bristles and that he was scrubbing Snape’s face raw as he worked the tiles.

“Here, here!” Fred agreed. “Gryffindor has lost more points this week than all the other houses combined.”

“It’s because I had double Potions. Greasy git takes points off for ‘improper stir-rod technique’.” Arcturus adopted the cold, drawl of the Potions Master and Fred and George laughed.

“That was pretty good,” Fred snorted. “Sounded just like him.”

“ _Indeed_.”

All three boys leapt to their feet as the Potions Master himself stood in the doorway, clearly not amused.

“I believe this detention is Mr. Black’s,” Snape hissed. “Unless you would like to join him, I suggest you return to your dormitory.”

Fred and George were quick to go and Arcturus didn’t blame them. There was another Gryffindor game coming up and he wouldn’t put it by Snape to ban Fred and George from playing. The match, after all, was against Slytherin. As Arcturus looked up from his spot kneeling on the tiles, he could clearly see that Snape had heard every word. The professor was livid as he watched the Weasley twins leave before turning back to look at Arcturus. He smirked, seeming to take vicious pleasure in the fact that Arcturus was cleaning the bathroom like a common Muggle. Arcturus, for his part, went back to scrubbing, trying to ignore his most hated professor.

“You’ve missed a spot. Just like your father, too proud to do proper work.”

Arcturus struggled to stay silent, even going so far as to bite his lip, but it was no use. Snape knew precisely which buttons of his to press.

“You don’t know anything,” Arcturus growled.

“Twenty points from Gryffindor,” Snape declared. “Would you care to _elaborate_ , Mr. Black? I believe Gryffindor still has a few more points.”

But Arcturus put his brush to the floor and focused on scrubbing until his arm burned and his knuckles were raw. Snape watched and waited and just when Arcturus seemed to have control over his emotions, he struck.

“It really is fortunate your mother is no longer alive to see how low you have brought the Black family name.”

Arcturus threw the brush and it clattered across the floor, skidding under one of the stalls. He leapt to his feet, his blood boiling and his hands clenched into fists, ready to pummel Snape into the ground.

“Shut up! You don’t bloody know anything! My mother _hated_ her family and you don’t get to talk about her, you slimy git!”

Snape smirked as Arcturus raged. “Fifty points from Gryffindor and weekend detentions through Christmas. Looks like you will be missing the next few Quidditch games, Mr. Black.” With the damage done, Snape swept from the bathroom leaving Arcturus fuming. He waited just until he was alone before lashing out and punching the wall. There as a sharp crack and shooting pain up his wrist.

“ARGH!” he screamed, both in pain and in rage as he cradled his broken hand. He hated Snape, but perhaps more he hated the rage that Snape was able to inspire in him, just with words. He sank to the floor and sat there on the cold tile for far too long. By the time he got up and began to make his way to the Hospital Wing it was long after his detention was over and he should’ve been in bed. However Arcturus was well-practiced by now at traversing the castle after hours and even injured and in pain had enough mind not to be caught. Although this might be one time where a teacher might let him continue on.

The Hospital wing was dark, but Arcturus knocked on the door and just a few minutes later Madam Pomfrey, the schools medi-witch, came bustling from her office. She took one look at Arcturus’s hand and ordered him to a bed.

“Dare I ask what happened at this hour of the night?”

“I punched a wall,” Arcturus mumbled. He was always truthful with Madam Pomfrey for some odd reason. The first time he’d been to the Hospital wing had been after he’d gotten into a fight with a first year Slytherin over his father. The Slytherin had come out worse for it, but Arcturus had his fair share of cuts and bruises. Madam Pomfrey had briskly mended him up and warned him against fighting, but she didn’t take any points or tell him he’d been in the wrong. She just fixed his injuries, as she did now. There was brief pain as the broken bones in his hand and wrist shifted back into place and then it felt hot before going cold like it had been set in a bucket of ice. The coldness felt relieving on his hand and Arcturus sighed, sinking back onto the Hospital bed.

“ _Ferula_ ,” Madam Pomfrey said and a splint wrapped itself around Arcturus’s hand and wrist, immobilizing it. “It’s late and you shouldn’t be roaming the corridors alone. You’ll stay here the night and return in the morning.” She conjured a pair of plain, hospital pyjamas and pulled the curtain to give Arcturus privacy as he changed. The splint was awkward as he tried to do up the buttons, but it was surely only for the night to let the hand rest. Madam Pomfrey was an excellent healer; Arcturus would be as good as new by the next morning.

As he lay back in his bed and stared up at the unfamiliar ceiling, his mind raced. Snape had struck, now it was Arcturus’s turn. He had to think of _something_. Arcturus was jerked out of his thoughts by a great crash. He bolted up and wrenched the curtains back. There, across the room a girl had tripped over a cart on her way from the loo. She was sprawled out on the floor, clutching her foot. Arcturus leapt up and hurried over to help her, avoiding the broken glass.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Didn’t see that there.” It was Tonks, the clumsy Hufflepuff from the train. She looked up and recognized him too. “You’re Arcturus, right?”

“Yeah. Here, let me help.”

It was a comedy of errors as Arcturus tried to help the clumsy Tonks to her feet with just one hand, all the while trying to avoid the mess on the floor. It was amazing Madam Pomfrey didn’t hear all the racket and come out to scold the two of them.

“Why are you in the Hospital?” Arcturus asked when Tonks was at last standing. She rested her weight gingerly on her injured foot but otherwise seemed fine.

“Potions accident,” Tonks replied. She didn’t seem to want to elaborate. Instead she took out her wand and performed a quick _Reparo_. The shattered vials pieced themselves back together, but there was no hope for the potions on the floor. Those she vanished, murmuring about apologizing to Madam Pomfrey in the morning. Arcturus assisted her back into bed to which Tonks gave him a quick “Thanks”.

“That was pretty wicked, what you all did for the Quidditch match.”

Arcturus froze. Nobody had said anything to him about his prank before. For all anyone knew, it was done by a group of seventh year Gryffindors. Those are the only ones who could have possibly performed such advanced charms and illusions. Nobody pointed any fingers at the two second years and their first year counterparts.

“It was pretty cool. I wish I knew what they’d done.”

Tonks snorted. “You don’t have to worry. I’m not a prefect. You won’t get in trouble.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Arcturus smirked.

“Alright, play coy.” Tonks lounged back on her bed, lacing her hands behind her head. “I guess I won’t tell you how to get into the Hogwarts kitchens then.”

That perked Arcturus’s interest. As a young boy he was always hungry and while he was used to getting food whenever he wanted at the Squibs’ house, at Hogwarts it had been three meals a day and that’s it. He wouldn’t mind being able to pop down for a snack every so often.

“Okay,” Arcturus conceded. “I’ll make you a deal. You show me into the kitchens, and I’ll show you those paint orbs.”

“With the Permanent Charm. I was red and gold for a week before it finally disappeared.”

Arcturus grinned. That part had been a stroke of genius on George’s part. Not even the Headmaster had gotten it off. Dumbledore had walked around with a red beard for five days before the magic had worn off. Oddly enough, he’d seemed perfectly content with the colour change, but then Dumbledore had always struck people as a little odd, particularly as he grew up in years.

Despite the early hour and the fact that they were both supposed to be resting on Madam Pomfrey’s orders, Arcturus and Tonks stayed up talking for quite some time. As Tonks was in Hufflepuff and Arcturus was a Gryffindor, they hadn’t had much interaction beyond their first meeting on the train. But the more they talked, the more Arcturus came to like his distant cousin and wish he could’ve been sent to live with her and her parents rather than the Squibs. Tonks seemed to understand his ostracism from the family better than the Squibs or Remus even.

“My mom was burned off the family tapestry after she married my dad. He’s a Muggle-born. I have two aunts, but I’ve never met them.”

“You don’t want to,” Arcturus assured her. “My mom was a Malfoy and the Squibs make me go to the stupid dinner parties at Malfoy Manor all the time. It’s boring and everyone walks around like they just smelled something rotten.”

Arcturus scrunched up his nose and threw it in the air before prancing in a circle like he’d seen the Pureblood elite do so often before. Tonks laughed and snorted as her nose transformed into a pig’s snout. As soon as she realized what happened she clamped her hands over her fact and scrunched her eyes closed. A few moments later her nose was human again.

“Sorry,” she apologized, flushing a bit. “Sometimes I don’t have the greatest control over my morphing.”

“You’re a Metamorphmagus? I saw you change your hair on the train.”

“Yeah. My mother says when I was born my hair was turquoise. It baffled St. Mungo’s until one of the apprentices suggested I was a Metamorphmagus. It’s very rare and sometimes I can’t control the changes. One time I had dog paws for a _whole week_! You don’t appreciate thumbs until you don’t have them.”

“Can you show me now?”

Tonks hesitated and her hand wandered up to her nose, as if to make sure it was still human. “I’d...rather not just now...” she replied.

“Okay, that’s fine,” Arcturus assured her quickly. “Promise you’ll show me later, though?”

Tonks grinned. “You bet. So tell me what it’s like in Romania.”

By the time Madam Pomfrey came to open the Hospital in the morning, Arcturus and Tonks knew just about all there was to know about each other. They were scolded profusely for staying up and talking when they were supposed to be sleeping, but Madam Pomfrey still released both of them after taking off Arcturus’s splint and a brief moment behind the curtains with Tonks. When Tonks came out again she was a little red, but seemed relieved to be getting out. They walked to the main staircase together before Tonks had to go down and Arcturus had to climb up.

“It was nice talking to you, Arcturus,” Tonks said.

“Same,” Arcturus agreed.

“Maybe you can come to my parents’ house for Christmas this year.”

“It would be much better than staying here or spending it with the Squibs.”

“I’ll send them an owl and ask. See you around.”

“Bye, Tonks.”


	9. Yuletide Gay

Chapter 9: Yuletide Gay

“But you said I could spend Christmas with Tonks and her family!”

“I did no such thing!” Marius replied sternly. “I would never allow a nephew of mine to spend the holidays with blood traitors. You will attend the Christmas Ball at Malfoy Manor as is proper and that will be the end of it.”

Infuriated, Arcturus wrenched his head from the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room. Lee sat in a chair nearby and had long ago learned to recognize Arcturus’s temper, especially when it had to do with his aunt and uncle.

“What did they say this time?” Lee asked.

“They said I can’t go to Christmas with the Tonks’. I have to go to some stupid ball.” He kicked a few fly-away embers back into the grate before stomping back to sit across the table from Lee.

“What’s wrong with a ball?”

Arcturus scoffed. “Besides the dress robes and the arrogant Purebloods who will be parading around and calling me ‘the murderer’s son’? I already told Tonks that I was going. Her parents are expecting us from the train.”

It was the night before Christmas break was about to begin and most of Gryffindor common room was empty. Everyone was up in their dormitories, packing their things for the break. The Hogwarts Express would leave the next morning for Kings Cross. Despite all of his detentions and the mid-term exams, Arcturus had been packed for the last week. He’d been thrilled when Marius had agreed to let him spend Christmas with Tonks and her family. But then Marius had Flooed and told him that he was coming back to London so he could attend the Christmas Ball held each year by the Malfoys. Arcturus had been last year and it was just as awful as other parties at Malfoy Manor, the only difference was that he was expected to dance and there were _many_ more people to sneer down at him.

“That sucks, mate,” Lee commiserated.

“Well I’m not going,” Arcturus declared. “I’ll stay at Hogwarts before I go to some stupid ball.”

“That’s the Christmas spirit, Archie!” Fred and George each took a seat on the couch on either side of Arcturus and slung an arm over his shoulders. “Our little rebel,” Fred teased, ruffling Arcturus’s hair.

Arcturus shoved him off and flattened his hair out again. “You don’t know what it’s like.”

“Can’t be any worse than Christmas with Great-Auntie Muriel.”

“But we’ve got a plan for that this year,” George assured them. He and his brother exchanged mischievous nods and Arcturus suddenly felt rather sorry for their Great-Auntie Muriel, though he’d never met the woman before.

“What are you going to do?” Lee asked Arcturus. He knew his friend well enough by now. Arcturus wouldn’t simply follow his aunt and uncle’s orders.

Arcturus smirked. “Well if I don’t show up, I can’t imagine they can do much of anything.”

The next morning Arcturus boarded the Hogwarts Express with Lee and Tonks. Fred and George had decided to stay behind to do some “exploring”, as they called it. In truth they were just looking forward to roaming the castle with little supervision. Many of the professors went home for the holiday too with just a few staying behind to look over those students who chose to remain or didn’t have anywhere better to go. Fred and George saw them down to Hogsmeade station. The whole ride there they hinted at a “project” they were working on, though they wouldn’t tell Arcturus what it was. That was all well and good, for Arcturus had a hard time concentrating on the conversation and keeping his eyes away from the black creatures that pulled the carriage.

They looked like horses that had not been fed in ages and had lost all their hair. Their skin was leathery and their wings were bat-like. Arcturus could count every bone of its rib-cage and it huffed and stomped its foot, rolling milky-white eyes.

“Are you alright, mate?” Lee asked, looking over to try to see what had Arcturus pale as a ghost.

“Yeah,” Arcturus said suddenly, pulling his eyes away. It was obvious the others couldn’t see the creatures and Arcturus wasn’t in the mood to try to explain what he saw. Maybe he could look it up later when the others weren’t around.

Arcturus, Lee, and Tonks got a compartment to themselves. As the train got moving, Lee pulled out a bag of candy which he said Fred and George gave him. He thought they could split it on the ride home, but just one piece taught them never to trust what Fred and George gave them. Arcturus’s stomach protested and Lee dashed out of the compartment towards the loo. Tonks’s face turned apple green and she groaned, clutching her stomach.

“What was that?” she moaned.

Arcturus looked at the wrapper but there was no image or anything indicating what the sweets could possibly be or where Fred and George got them from.

“That was the last time I eat anything Fred or George gives me,” Arcturus groaned. Luckily the effects didn’t last very long. Lee returned from the loo after a few minutes and Arcturus was already beginning to feel better. Tonks had returned to her normal tan colouring and Lee, while still looking a bit pale, at least didn’t have his head in a toilet.

“I’m sorry,” Lee mumbled as he slumped back on the seat by Arcturus.

“Lesson learned, I’d say,” Tonks replied and the other two agreed. They settled in for some Exploding Snap to pass the time and when they were bored of that, or in other words when Arcturus had won enough rounds, they pulled out their books to work on their holiday papers. Tonks in particular had a lot of work. She was a seventh year and would have her N.E.W.T.s or Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests, when they returned next term.

“I’m going to apply for the Auror program,” Tonks told them. “But I need top marks on all my N.E.W.T.s”

“Sounds miserable,” Arcturus replied as he scribbled a few responses to his Charms assignment. He didn’t much care about marks. In fact, he would annoy the Squibs more if he received poor marks. But Arcturus’s own pride forced him to at least do the bare minimum to pass therefore he’d been receiving straight Acceptables so far.

“Don’t you know what you want to do when you get out of school?” Tonks asked.

“I just want to get out of my aunt and uncle’s house. After then, who knows?”

“You should think about it. You’re a pretty strong wizard already, for an eleven-year-old.”

When they arrived at Kings Cross station, Arcturus made a point of pulling his cap down low around his ears and eyes and staying close to Tonks’ side. He glanced around and spotted the Squibs standing at the opposite end, waiting impatiently for Arcturus to come off the train. Luckily Tonks’ parents were outside of Kings Cross, apparently having caught some Muggle traffic.

“It’s always overly busy during the holidays. Ted Tonks.” Arcturus shook Tonks’ father’s hand.

“And I’m your Aunt, Andromeda.”

Tonks’ parents were like night and day. While Ted Tonks was fair-haired with a rather large mid section, Aunt Andromeda was tall with dark brown hair and the same Black-family features that Arcturus had inherited. She smiled at him and gave him a gentle hug.

“You remind me of your father when he was younger. He and I were quite close growing up.” She leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, “We kept each other sane.”

Arcturus didn’t like this comparison though. “I’m nothing like my father,” he said rigidly.

Andromeda seemed to understand Arcturus’s sudden coldness and nodded. “Of course. You have Lenora written all over you. She had quite the temper too.”

The gentle reminder put a damper on Arcturus’s rising anger. Very few had even mentioned his mother since he’d come to live in Britain. Even fewer had spoken about her so casually and nobody had mentioned her quick-fire temper that she had passed on to Arcturus.

“Let’s get out of the cold,” Ted declared, stomping his feet to warm himself up. Arcturus was more than grateful to focus on shoving his trunk in the boot of the Muggle car. He hadn’t ridden in one since Bucharest. Magical transportation had been almost non-existent there and his mother _hated_ Apparating. It made her sick every time.

“Have you ever seen a Muggle pantomime, Arcturus?” Ted asked as they drove out of London.

“No,” Arcturus replied.

“They do a pretty clever one each year at the local theatre. I find the Muggle ones much better than the Wizard ones.”

“Can’t say I’ve ever seen one.”

Tonks looked surprised. “ _Ever?_ ”

Arcturus shrugged. “The Squibs think they’re beneath them and there weren’t very many in Romania.”

“Well it’s a good thing you’re spending the holidays with us then!” Ted declared. “Tell me they at least have crackers.”

But Arcturus shook his head and Ted groaned.

“Now I understand why you left, Dromeda.”

Andromeda laughed. “Yes, I simply couldn’t do without Christmas crackers!”

Arcturus knew, though, when he didn’t turn up at Kings Cross, Marius and Ariadne would look for him. He was, after all, their only link to the Black family. The Tonks family residence would be the most obvious place to look, but his aunt and uncle were such that they would stay as far away from Muggles as possible. Ted, being of a Muggle family, made his home in the middle of a respectable suburb surrounded by people who knew nothing about the Wizarding World. Arcturus, therefore, was expecting the owl that tapped at the window. Tonks let the bird in but it nipped at her fingers when she tried to take the note off its leg.

“Arcturus, I believe it’s for you,” Tonks said, twisting her neck to try to see the address.

“Famous, are we?” Ted joked.

“It’s from my uncle,” Arcturus murmured. He knew what it would say but he read the letter anyways. Again, Arcturus was glad the Squibs couldn’t send Howlers.

“Is everything alright?” Andromeda asked. She watched Arcturus carefully with curiosity and concern.

“My _uncle_ wants me to go to the Christmas ball at Malfoy Manor.”

The Tonks looked confused. Well, Ted and Tonks did. Andromeda, on the other hand, was well-familiar with the annual ball held at Malfoy Manor, and how the Black family viewed her family.

“They don’t want you staying with us.”

“No.” Then Arcturus realized how his reply sounded. “But I don’t care what they think.”

“Well obviously, or you wouldn’t have come here without their permission,” Ted chuckled.

“I had their permission,” Arcturus insisted. “They just took it back. Please don’t make me go back to their house.”

Ted and Andromeda exchanged wearied looks.

“They are your legal guardians,” Ted replied. “We can’t keep you here against their will.”

But Andromeda was smiling. “However, they would like you to attend the Malfoy Ball and I don’t see why you shouldn’t. It’s been quite some time since I’ve seen my youngest sister.”

And so on Christmas Eve night, Arcturus found himself once more stuffed into his acutely uncomfortable dress robes, only this time he stood in the guest bedroom in the Tonks family home, muttering over his bad luck. The holiday had been rather nice up until then. He’d spent time with Tonks and her family, doing normal things. He hadn’t watched television since his mother died, but they had sat around last night watching movies by the fireplace. Arcturus hated that he had to attend this ball and be reminded of all the Pureblood nonsense the rest of his family ascribed to and desperately wished the Tonks would simply let him skive off.

There was a gentle knock at the door and Arcturus tugged at his collar again before he opened the door. Andromeda was in the hallway and Arcturus looked at her attire in confusion. She was dressed in stunning silver dress robes and her brown hair was twisted up in an intricate style. She held herself upright and proudly, but not with the same snobbish airs that he’d seen of the other Pureblood women at these functions before.

“You’re going to?”

Andromeda seemed amused. “Of course! You don’t think I’d let you go it alone! I’ve been to enough of these sorts of events in my time.”

“But won’t they tell you to leave?”

Andromeda smirked. “They wouldn’t dare. My little sister is too prim and proper to cause a family scene.” She winked and for the first time tonight Arcturus found himself grinning. Tonight just might be alright. If only his stupid collar would stop choking him!

With an over-exaggerated flourish, Arcturus offered Andromeda his arm and the two of them descended to the foyer where Ted and Tonks were waiting. They hooted and cheered as the two of them descended the steps and Ted spun his wife in a tight circle, admiring the figure she cut.

“Arcturus, I’m counting on you tonight,” Ted said very sternly. “You need to keep all those Pureblood wizards away from my witch or there will be hell to pay.”

“Count on me!” Arcturus promised. Ted and Andromeda shared a kiss and Tonks and Arcturus groaned and made the obligatory gagging noises.

“We shouldn’t be too long, but don’t wait up,” Andromeda told them as they fastened on winter cloaks and prepared to leave. “Come along, Arcturus. Into the belly of the beast we go.”

Malfoy Manor was decorated in full holiday splendour. With fairy lights everywhere and more Christmas trees than could be counted, it was obvious the overall intended effect. Andromeda looked around and winced.

“I forgot how bad it was,” Andromeda murmured as the two of them stood at the Apparation point, brought up short by the sight.

“We can just go back now,” Arcturus suggested. “After all, we came.”

But Andromeda seemed to recover her cheery attitude. “Don’t be ridiculous, we have to make an _appearance_.”

And so the two of them set off down the walk. They were soon joined by other witches and wizards, all bundled up in heavy, fur cloaks with hints of the finest dress robes in all sorts of colours peeking from the bottom. With so many lights decorating the garden and the manor itself, it was easy to recognize those arriving. Many saw Arcturus and while there was still a bit of murmuring, it was not nearly as bad as it had been the first time he’d attended a function such as this. No, the true gossip for the night was the witch he was escorting. Andromeda Black had not been seen at any social event since marrying “that Muggle-born boy” nearly 19 years before.

They arrived at the door and handed their cloaks off to a struggling house elf before joining the rest of the partygoers on the way to the ballroom. As they approached the entrance where each group was being announced, Arcturus found himself growing increasingly nervous and maybe a bit giddy. Andromeda seemed to sense his tension and she smiled down at him reassuringly. When they arrived at the entrance, she gave the elf herald their names.

“Master Arcturus Sirius Black of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, and Lady Andromeda...Tonks.”

The hall fell silent as all turned to look at them. Andromeda’s confidence never faltered but she had to practically drag Arcturus down the stairs and into the ballroom. The hosts awaited them at the bottom of the stairs. Lady Malfoy had gone considerably stiff as she watched their progress while Lord Malfoy raised his nose higher, as if someone had just shoved a particularly rancid piece of garbage under his nose. Still, as Arcturus and Andromeda stepped up to pay their compliments, Lord and Lady Malfoy went through the same motions they had with everyone else, albeit much more stiff and formal.

“Mr. Black,” Lucius Malfoy hissed, inclining his head ever so slightly.

“Mr. Malfoy,” Arcturus replied, though he couldn’t keep the smirk from his face at the way Lucius Malfoy’s eyes kept glancing towards his sister-in-law.

Andromeda seemed to think now was an excellent time to abandon all formal propriety.

“Cissy!” she cried, throwing her arms around her younger sister. Narcissa Malfoy nearly fell over and it was only her husband’s guiding hand that kept the two women on their feet.

“Andromeda,” Narcissa bit back tersely.

“It’s so good to see you, and after such a long time!”

Narcissa seemed to be at a loss of what to say. “I—Andromeda...”

“Enjoy the evening,” Lucius said crisply. He looked down at Arcturus with narrowed, accusatory eyes and Arcturus gave him a very smug wink. Finally Lucius Malfoy saw him as he truly wanted.

“We certainly will, Mr. Malfoy.”


	10. What the Weasleys Found

Chapter 10: What the Weasleys Found

“And then on Boxing Day, we went to the local panto about Jack and the Beanstalk. The Muggle one, because Ted doesn’t like the wizard one a few towns away. He says it’s not as clever.” Arcturus slumped back in his armchair in Gryffindor tower with a wide grin on his face. It had been the best Christmas since his mother died.

Fred, George, and Lee were all seated with him in the common room and the four of them had been trading stories about their Christmas breaks. Lee had gone home and he and his parents went to France for a skiing holiday. He’d described a fairly spectacular fall which had cost him a trip to the local mediwizard, but after a quick swish of the wand he had been back on the skis and finished the trip with nothing more than a few rough stops.

Fred and George had been rather quiet while Arcturus and Lee had described their holidays. The twins had chosen to stay behind, but Arcturus thought with a nearly empty castle they would have all sorts of stories to tell. However their silence was becoming suspicious.

“What did you two do over the holidays?” he asked.

Fred and George exchanged a purposeful glance and Arcturus knew they had certainly not spent the holiday in Gryffindor tower playing Gobstones.

“Gather around, my chums,” Fred said, and the four of them moved in closer around the low table. “This is what we’ve been doing during the holidays.”

He reached into his robes and Arcturus’s mind raced with the possibilities. He did not expect the old, discoloured packet of parchment that Fred laid down on the table. He blinked a few times and then laughed.

“Good one, Fred.”

“It’s just an old packet of parchment,” Lee said, confused.

“Is it?” Fred asked.

“If it’s just an old packet of parchment, then why did Filch have it in a cabinet marked ‘Confiscated and Highly Dangerous’?”

“Because Filch is a barmy old codger,” Arcturus replied. “Everybody knows that.”

“And we might’ve thought that too,” George agreed.

“If we had such a narrow mind as yours, Archie boy,” Fred added. Arcturus scowled at the jab, sitting back and folding his arms over his chest.

“Alright then, what is it?” Arcturus demanded.

Fred and George grinned from ear to ear. “Watch this.”

Fred touched his wand to the parchment. “What are you?”

Arcturus thought surely they were just taking the mickey out of him, but a moment later, lines began appearing on the parchment and these lines soon formed into words.

“ _Wouldn’t you like to know?”_

Suddenly Arcturus was intrigued. The words faded after they’d read them but Arcturus was already touching his wand to the parchment. “Are you going to tell us?” he asked.

“ _Not unless you guess the password.”_

“See?” Fred hissed, his excitement clear on his face.

“Do you know the password?”

“That’s what we’ve been working on during the break.”

“But we haven’t had much luck,” George admitted.

“But we thought with the four of us, we could figure it out!” Fred declared.

Lee, ever the voice of reason, finally spoke up. “What if it really is something dangerous?”

“Filch’s idea of dangerous is a few dung bombs and a fanged flyer,” Arcturus replied. The mystery of the packet of parchment intrigued him and already his mind was racing with ways they might be able to figure out the password. “Have you tried any spells on it?”

“ _Revelio_ ,” Fred admitted.

“But it didn’t do anything,” said George.

Arcturus frowned. If _Revelio_ didn’t do anything to the map, then it was under strong protections. He doubted any other spells would be able to help. It seemed that the only way they were going to be able to find out what made this parchment “Highly Dangerous” was to guess the password.

“Let’s get to work,” he declared.

When Fred and George first revealed the parchment to them, Arcturus thought with four of the cleverest and mischievous minds in Hogwarts working at it, they would have the password within the week. However it was well into the spring months and the four of them were no closer to cracking the parchment than they had been the evening Fred and George first showed it to them. The only headway they had made came with a rather joking try from George. They’d been sitting in the dormitory one night and George had tapped his wand to the parchment saying “I solemnly swear I won’t tell anyone else the password”.

The parchment had replied with the teasing message “ _Close.”_ After that it hadn’t said anything else, not even when they asked it what it was. The parchment had gone silent and it was infuriating.

“It’s probably just one big joke,” Arcturus growled, thrusting the parchment across the table when his most recent attempt yielded nothing, again. They were in the library and Lee was actually doing work but Fred, George, and Arcturus were ignoring the fact that they had exams coming up again and had pulled out the parchment for a few more cracks at the password. The vulture-like librarian, Madam Pince, had already been over twice and was sending them more than a few dirty looks, but since they hadn’t abused any of her books and still had their schoolwork out as if they were studying, she hadn’t kicked them out yet. It would only take one more loud comment from Arcturus, though.

“It’s probably an old gag from Zonko’s. Trick parchment for people who won’t leave you alone.”

“But you’ve seen all the stuff we’ve tried on it,” George insisted. “A cheap Zonko’s trick wouldn’t hold up to all of that. It would’ve been incinerated back in February.”

When the parchment had gone silent, the boys had taken to trying physical spells on it, but all they had found out is that the parchment never got soggy, never caught flame, and even their strongest Cutting Hex didn’t even nick it. Fred and George were some of Zonko’s best customers, but even they knew the Zonko’s products couldn’t stand up to that sort of stress.

Fred was staring intently at the parchment. “Maybe you’re right,” he said suddenly. “Maybe it _is_ a trick, or a joke. And we’ve been going about it like the joke is on us. _We’re_ the pranksters, we need to start acting like it!”

He pulled out his wand and tapped the parchment. “I solemnly swear that _I_ am up to no good.”

And to their astonishment and elation, ink appeared over the whole page.

“You did it!”

“ _Mr. Black_ , this is a library, not a rumpus room! Out!”

Arcturus hardly cared though. He, the twins, and even Lee quickly packed their things and practically ran from the library. They found the nearest empty classroom and all crowded around the now completely coloured parchment in Fred’s hand.

“Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief Makers are proud to present The Marauder’s Map!”

Fred and George were giddy with excitement. Even Lee seemed to have forgotten all about his reservations and put his head together with them, tracing over the lines that had appeared on the parchment. It was only Arcturus’s face that fell and he turned pale as he took a step back.

“It’s a map of Hogwarts!” George exclaimed. “Look, there’s the Great Hall, and the Hospital Wing, even Gryffindor Tower.”

“And look, it shows where everyone is,” Fred added. “There’s Dumbledore in his study, and look that’s us!”

“Wicked!”

But George noticed that Arcturus did not seem to be sharing in their enthusiasm.

“Are you alright? He asked, concerned.

Arcturus’s mind was racing. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. Moony was Remus. And Padfoot, Remus had told him about the Marauders and their school day pranks. But he’d never mentioned a map. He probably thought it was lost. After all, Fred and George said they found it in Filch’s office and nicked it from a cabinet that said “Confiscated and Highly Dangerous”. That means Filch must’ve taken it from them. His father the murderer had made this.

“Arcturus!”

He blinked and then realized the others were all staring and Fred had just shouted his name at the top of his lungs.

“What’s gotten into you?” Fred demanded. “This is brilliant. We don’t have to check around corners and more to see where Filch is or worry about Mrs. Norris or one of the teachers catching us. We’ll know everything! Where everyone is—“

“—where every _thing_ is,” George added.

“The castle will be our domain!”

“I wonder what other secrets this thing hides.”

“Only one way to find out...”

“I think we should get rid of it.”

Fred, George, and even Lee suddenly looked at Arcturus like he’d declared he had six arms and was running off to join the circus. Then they laughed long and hard.

“Good one, Archie boy!” Fred guffawed, slapping Arcturus on the back.

“You really had us going,” George agreed.

But Arcturus wasn’t laughing. “I’m serious. We should get rid of it.”

The fact that Arcturus _wasn’t_ laughing, and in fact stared them down in a way Lee and the twins had never seen before quickly sobered the mood.

“What do you mean, ‘we should get rid of it’? Why?”

But how could he explain to them what was going through his mind? None of them knew who the Marauders were, and while Fred and George knew that Arcturus’s father was a murderer, they seemed to think it was some big joke. At least, that’s always how they talked about it, and Arcturus was fine with that, except when he was faced with something that could very well be...dangerous.

The bottom line was they didn’t know what this map was for. Yes, it seemed to show Hogwarts and everyone in it, but it had also coached them as they tried to figure out the password. What other secrets was it hiding? What if, when the Marauders had made this map, Sirius Black was already going bad? He could’ve planted something in it. Filch thought everything was trouble and should be confiscated, but maybe this time he was right.

But Arcturus couldn’t express that to Fred, George, and Lee. As far as they knew, he didn’t care one wit about his father or what he’d done. It was a favourite joke for the twins. Lee didn’t really bring it up at all.

“Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs,” Arcturus said slowly. “They’re obviously nicknames. Who doesn’t put their real names on a powerful work of magic like this?”

“Geniuses,” Fred replied, almost reverently.

“They are hiding, were hiding. Hogwarts is supposed to be Unplottable. How did they make a map? Not with the Headmaster’s permission and maybe they had to use dark magic. I don’t trust them, and I don’t trust the map. We should destroy it.”

“We can’t, or haven’t you been paying attention the last few months?” George replied.

“Then we should turn it in,” Arcturus concluded.

But neither of the twins liked that. “Are you mad? This is coming from the mastermind behind the game day prank that people are _still_ talking about! We finally figure out one of the greatest discoveries of our short lives—“

“—and you want us to _turn it in_?”

No, the twins did not like that at all. But Arcturus wouldn’t budge. If there was one thing most adults agreed about him, he was stubborn. He folded his arms across his chest and lifted his nose like he’d seen the purebloods do at the formal dinners and balls.

“It’s dangerous,” he said with authority and finality.

Fred and George seemed taken aback by his sudden change in demeanour. If they were any other students, they might’ve listened too. But this was Fred and George Weasley, and if there was one thing they didn’t do, it was follow the rules or obey the instructions of others.

“Fine,” Fred said at last. “You don’t have to use it. C’mon George, let’s go try it out.” They left the classroom, but not without two identical glances at Arcturus that betrayed the depth of their hurt. Lee hesitated, probably because while he was Fred and George’s friend, he was Arcturus’s friend first, and his roommate. Lee hadn’t wanted to have anything to do with the parchment at first, but when Fred unlocked the secret password he’d been intrigued. Now he seemed torn between the twins and Arcturus.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, before grabbing up his bag and following the twins out of the classroom. Arcturus was left alone and friendless.

“Stupid Marauders,” he growled, before taking up his own bag and leaving. He didn’t go back to Gryffindor tower like the twins and Lee probably did. Instead he went out to the school grounds and he walked as much as he could until Hagrid the Groundskeeper chased him back inside because it was getting dark. When he returned to Gryffindor tower, Fred, George, and Lee were in the corner of the common room and Arcturus could see they were bent over the map, studying it carefully. They each looked up at him as he passed by, but didn’t call him over or ask him where he’d been. Arcturus climbed the stairs to his dormitory and collapsed onto his bed, pulling the curtains. So much for his “friends”.


	11. Moving On

Chapter 11: Moving On

After the argument over the Marauder’s Map, Fred and George remained cool towards Arcturus and he returned the favour. The result was that Lee was rather unfortunately torn between the two groups. But he still managed to spend time with both and so Arcturus wasn’t left completely friendless. In addition to Lee, he would sometimes hang out with Tonks, but as the school year wound to a close and the N.E.W.T.s drew closer, Tonks had less time for talking and most of the time Arcturus spent with her was in the library, bent over a textbook. The unfortunately side-effect of it all was that Arcturus actually studied quite a lot for his end of term exams. But he was bored out of his mind. Remus had sent him a letter just the week before, encouraging him to take these exams seriously as they would be good practice for when he eventually had to take the O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s himself. Arcturus was finding that sometimes Remus could be a wet blanket. But that wouldn’t stop Arcturus from creating fun.

August Prescott was the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and frankly he was a bit of a nutter. He knew about Defense, but had been a rather unfortunately victim of a poorly cast Memory Charm in his youth. The result is that he would often seem to forget something, even if he’d just said it or was in the middle of doing it. In class the result was rather comical and more than a few classes had been spared a pop quiz, simply because Professor Prescott had forgotten the questions. The condition could be further aggravated by stress, such as an unruly student. Or at least, that is what Arcturus discovered.

“...and so in conclusion, a doxy bite must be treated immediately or the situation may turn...em...”

“Severe, Professor?” Ravenclaw, Graham Graves, suggested.

“Yes, severe. Thank you, Mr...”

“Graves, sir.”

“Of course. Any questions?”

Arcturus raised his hand from his seat near the back and Professor Prescott suppressed a groan before calling on him.

“Yes, Mr. Black?”

“What if you tried to eat doxy eggs?”

“What?”

Arcturus twirled his quill through his fingertips as he sat back in his chair with his feet on the desk, smirking. “What if you tried to eat doxy eggs?”

“Well...I don’t recommend it.”

“Would you die?”

“You would certainly become very...em...”

Professor Prescott blinked a few times, looking around as if he was just realizing he was in the middle of class.

“Sick, Professor?”

“Yes, sick. Thank you Mr. Greaves.”

“Graves, sir.”

“Yes, yes.” Professor Prescott turned back to the board, indicating that he was finished with the question at hand, but Arcturus pressed on.

“How sick?”

Professor Prescott sighed, placing the chalk down. He turned slowly and Arcturus knew he had the man just where he wanted him.

“Mr. Barnes.”

“Black, actually.”

“Take your feet off the desk, please.”

But Arcturus only shifted from one foot to the other. “How sick would you be if you ate doxy eggs?”

“Mr. Banks...”

“Black.”

“I asked you to take your feet down. I would like to continue the lesson.”

“I have lower back problems.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused, Professor.”

“Well...em...thank you? What were we—?”

“If you ate doxy eggs...”

“Well I don’t recommend it.”

“Yes, yes, you’ve said that. But how sick would you be?”

“Black, enough already,” Graves hissed from the front row.

“It’s just an innocent question,” Arcturus replied. “So how sick?”

Between Arcturus’s insistence and the rest of the class’s annoyance, Prescott was becoming flustered.

“Now, now, there’s no need for arguing. Mr. Gray—“

“It’s _Graves_.”

“Em right, Mr. Burns—“

“ _Black_.”

“Em...what was the question again?”

The whole class groaned.

Arcturus grinned, knowing this was it. He spoke slowly, like he was asking a young child. “How sick would you become if you ate doxy eggs?”

Prescott looked around at the obvious annoyance and glares. He fiddled with the chalk in his hand before dropping it. “Well you see, if you eat doxy eggs there will be a trip to St. Mungos and no small amount of vomiting. Now, if we are finished...”

The professor trailed off again before looking around the classroom in annoyance. “What are you all doing here? I dismissed class three hours ago. Get out! Can I not have a few hours of peace and quiet away from you little blighters?” Prescott then ran from the classroom, leaving the door open behind him so that the whole class could hear his screams and cries down the corridor.

The rest of the class only sat for a moment, thoroughly confused and unsure what to do next. But Arcturus certainly wasn’t in the mood to waste a perfectly sunny day. He gathered up his things.

“Well, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I think I’m going to take advantage of this free period.”

Graves the Ravenclaw didn’t seem to share Arcturus’s sentiments.

“The class isn’t over,” he retorted. “And thanks to you, the professor has run off. Now we’ll be even _further_ behind in this subject than we already are.”

Arcturus snorted. “I only asked a simple question. The man is mental. Lee, you coming?”

Lee certainly didn’t want to be singled out at a time like this, but he gathered up his books and followed Arcturus out to the dirty glares of the Ravenclaws and some of the more goody-goody Gryffindors. Immediately they made for the school grounds where students with actual free periods were spending their time studying or relaxing on a rare, sunny day.

“Ah, freedom,” Arcturus breathed, loosening his tie and throwing his school robe over his shoulder.

“Do you think we should tell someone, about Prescott?” Lee asked.

“Nah, Graves will take care of that. Mark my words, that prat will be Head Boy when we’re seventh years.”

The two boys strolled down towards the lake where the Giant Squid lazily glided across the water. Arcturus picked up a few rocks and tried to skip them out towards the beast, but his arm just wasn’t that good. As they walked down around the edge of the lake, they saw Tonks sitting on top of a rock. Her own bag and school robe were by her side and she was staring at a piece of parchment very intensely. In fact, she didn’t even notice that her normal pink hair was actually fading to a more mousy brown.

“Wotcher, Tonks,” Arcturus called.

She looked up and her hair went back to its usual, unusual colour. “Arcturus, Lee...I thought you had Defense this hour.”

Arcturus shrugged. “Prescott dismissed us early. What do you have there?”

As they came closer, Arcturus could see that the parchment was in fact a letter and it seemed to be rather official. In the top corners were the official crests of the Ministry of Magic and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Tonks held the paper carefully and almost with reverence. Arcturus remembered holding his Hogwarts acceptance letter the same way when it at last came.

“I got in,” Tonks said quietly. “I’m going to be an Auror.”

Arcturus’s jaw dropped. Of course he knew that Tonks was applying. She’d spoken about it before, but only as a fantasy, something that she would love to do when she’d graduated Hogwarts. It was nearly impossible to be selected for Auror training. Not only did you have to be at the top of your class, but you needed all sorts of extra credentials. Tonks was a fantastic dueller. Arcturus had seen her beat just about every other student in Hogwarts’ duelling club. He knew she was good, but his mind was having trouble seeing Tonks as a stone-faced Auror. Tonks who tripped over her own robe hem and wore her hair bubble gum pink. She wasn’t even a prefect.

“That’s...amazing!” he exclaimed at last.

Tonks chuckled and then that chuckle became a full out laugh and she leapt off her rock, tackling Arcturus in an extremely enthusiastic hug.

“You don’t know how happy I am!” she told him, as they tried to keep their feet. “An Auror. Me!”

“Congratulations,” Lee said, smiling. “When do you start?”

“It says this summer,” Tonks replied, looking at the letter of acceptance. “Pending my N.E.W.T. results. I need to go study!” Tonks gathered up her robe and bag.

“Wait,” Arcturus said, grabbing her arm. “You told Aunt Andromeda and Uncle Ted right?”

Tonks blinked in confusion before realization came through. “Oh, no! I completely forgot. I should go owl them now! Then I’ll study. Don’t get into trouble,” she called as she raced off towards the Owlery. She stumbled and dropped her bag, but was back on her feet and running the next second.

“An Auror,” Arcturus snorted. But despite his sarcasm, he couldn’t keep the grin off his face. Tonks was going to be an Auror, what she’d dreamed of since she was little and would pretend to fight bad wizards with sticks from the backyard. Aunt Andromeda had showed him some of the photos on his last visit. He truly was happy for his cousin.

“Do you think you could be an Auror?” Lee asked idly.

Arcturus scoffed. “Why would I want to? You have to be good and follow the _rules_.”

Lee laughed. “Yeah, I suppose that would be impossible for _you_.”

“Not impossible. But why would I ever want to? It’s so much more fun this way.”

The two boys continued on down the lake, chattering now with all thoughts of classes well behind them.

“Do you think Tonks would arrest me, when she’s an Auror?”

Lee’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Have you done something to be arrested?”

“No. Not yet. But if I did, do you think she’d do it? I mean, my father is in Azkaban, and ‘blood will out’, as the rest of my family thinks...”

“I don’t think you’d do anything to go to Azkaban over. And I don’t think they’d send Tonks to arrest you.”

“True,” Arcturus conceded. He remained thoughtful a moment before shrugging. “I’d stuff her in a fight anyways.”

That night at supper, Arcturus noticed that Professor Prescott was absent. This wasn’t uncommon. The professor often would forget to come for meals, or sometimes he would forget how to find his way to the Great Hall. Once Filch had found him up on the sixth floor, hopelessly lost and trying to ask a suit of armour directions to Cornwall. The story had been a favourite of the Hogwarts gossip mill for quite some time after that. This time, however, Prescott wasn’t going to show up halfway through the pudding. Instead, Professor Dumbledore stood and a hush came over the students and faculty.

“As I am sure many of you have heard Professor Prescott has unfortunately been forced to resign his position as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. He suffered a very traumatic breakdown this afternoon and will not be able to finish out the term. His classes will continue as scheduled, however there will be no final exam in Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

There were a few low cheers and plenty of whispers that were silenced by a stern look from Dumbledore.

“I am certain you are all very disappointed. I ask that you do your best in these next few weeks and have patience. Thank you.”

As the Headmaster took his seat, he very specifically looked at Arcturus and Arcturus knew Dumbledore was aware of all that happened the past afternoon. The Headmaster just had a way, a very eerie and unsettling way, of knowing everything.

“Well done, Archie,” George said suddenly, taking a free seat across from Arcturus.

“Yeah, well done,” Fred added, settling next to him. “You’ve managed to do something we haven’t.”

“And what’s that?” Arcturus asked cautiously.

“You broke a teacher.”

“That takes skill.”

“Proper planning.”

“And no small amount of luck.”

“So, you guys aren’t mad at me?”

Fred and George laughed.

“Archie, my boy,” Fred said, slinging an arm over Arcturus’s shoulder.

“Don’t be so _Sirius_!”


	12. The Summer of Firsts

Chapter 12: The Summer of Firsts

As the school year came to a close and the first-years sat through the last of their exams, Arcturus could feel the excitement mounting. Summer holidays were almost upon them, except Arcturus would much rather sit another round of exams than go back to live with the Squibs. The only good news was that he had people other than Remus to owl over the summer. Lee would be travelling for two weeks with his parents but then he would be back in London after that and wanted to catch a football match with Arcturus. The twins wanted him to visit them at their home in Devon, strangely named “The Burrow”.

“It’s not much,” George admitted, as the two of them described their home on the Hogwarts Express back to London.

“But it’s home and plenty big enough for everyone,” Fred promised. He and George sat on one side of the compartment with Lee, while Arcturus and Tonks shared a bench. Tonks and Lee seemed to be in a rather intense match of Wizard’s Chess that Tonks was losing spectacularly. Arcturus ducked as a piece of Tonks’ bishop sailed over his head and clattered against the window.

“That’s checkmate,” Lee declared, reaching across to shake Tonks’ hand.

“I’m rubbish at this!” she groaned, acknowledging her defeat before they set about gathering all the pieces. Arcturus handed her the bishop’s head by his feet.

“Maybe they’ll teach you how to play a decent game of chess in Auror training,” he joked.

“Nah, Tonks will be learning how to fight evil wizards,” George said. “They’re tricky, that lot.”

“Got to keep on your toes, or they’ll hex you right in the back,” Fred added.

Arcturus thought Fred’s words were all too accurate. Just look what his own father had done to his friends! When he thought of Tonks, he couldn’t see her as a stone-faced Auror, fighting Dark wizards. She was just, well, Tonks! She was his fun-loving, pink-haired, klutz of a cousin.

“Is that what you guys have been doing all year? Keeping me on my toes?” Tonks bantered back.

Arcturus grinned. “Just helping you prepare,” he replied innocently.

It was too soon when the Hogwarts Express at last pulled into Kings Cross Station in London. As they parted ways, all promised to write and the twins shouted a reminder at Arcturus that he was to come for a visit to the Burrow at least once this summer and that they’d jump through his Floo and hex him in his sleep if he neglected their owls.

Once beyond the barrier to Platform 9 ¾, Arcturus looked around for the no doubt sour faces of his Aunt and Uncle. Sure enough, Marius and Ariadne waited for him by the curb, shooting disdaining looks at the Muggles who passed them by. They once more called the Knight Bus and the three of them returned to the Squibs’ house with nary a word between them. With a sigh, Arcturus dumped his trunk at the foot of his bed and set Striga’s cage on top of his wardrobe. He was back “home”, but none of it felt like home. In fact, it seemed like he’d left his home behind and the Squibs’ house was the foreign place.

“Supper is promptly at six,” Aunt Ariadne said from just outside his door. “I trust you remember to wash and dress _properly_.” Her footsteps clicked along the wooden floor before descending once more.

“ _Yes_ ,” Arcturus hissed under his breath.

It had been weeks, and still Arcturus had not received an owl from Tonks. He’d sent and received letters from the Weasley twins, from Lee, from Remus, and even Aunt Andromeda and Uncle Ted. Each letter from Aunt Andromeda talked about how busy Tonks was and how very enthusiastic about her training she was. She was being mentored by the famous Auror, Alastor Moody. “Mad-Eye Moody”, as Arcturus had heard. According to the twins, who received _their_ information from their father who worked in the Ministry, Mad-Eye Moody was a legend in the Auror department. He was also a complete nutter with one peg-leg out the door.

“And dad says he’s got this fake eye that looks everywhere at once, including out the back of his head!” Fred said.

He, George, and Arcturus sat by a pond, not far from the Burrow. It was a sunny day in the middle of summer and the last day of Arcturus’s mandatory visit to the Weasley home that the twins had insisted upon. When Fred and George had murmured about how their home “wasn’t much” on the train, Arcturus certainly hadn’t realized they were exaggerating. Arcturus believed the Burrow had once been a small, stone cottage of sorts. But it had been built on and magically expanded so much that it could not possibly stand on its own. Arcturus thought there had to be more spells holding the Burrow together than all of Hogwarts. With seven Weasleys (the eldest Bill and Charlie had found flats of their own) under one roof, Arcturus felt there was hardly any room for him. As it was, he was sleeping in Bill and Charlie’s old room, up on the fourth floor. It was smaller than Arcturus’s bathroom at the Squibs’ house and Arcturus frequently stubbed his toes on the various items that were strewn all about the room. Charlie was still in the process of moving out, apparently, and Bill was in Egypt as a Curse-breaker for Gringotts and had left the majority of his things behind.

“Do you think he’s seen his own brain?” George wondered.

“Who’s seen his own brain?”

Fred and George were not the youngest Weasley children. They had a younger brother, Ron, who would attend Hogwarts next year and a younger sister, Ginny, who would attend in two years. Ron had taken to shadowing Fred, George, and Arcturus around the house any chance he could.

“Ronniekins, shouldn’t you be helping Mom in the kitchen?” Fred teased. He reached up to try to ruffle Ron’s red hair, but the younger boy was well used to the twins’ jokes. He ducked away and even managed to avoid George behind him.

“Stop calling me that!” Ron growled, his cheeks turning red.

“Aw, ickle Ronniekins needs a nap!” George teased.

With each taunt, Ron only became angrier. Arcturus thought he was easily riled, even though he had to admit the twins knew which buttons to press.

“Shut up you wankers!”

“Ronald Weasley! Don’t let me hear you use such foul words again! Inside, now!”

Mrs. Weasley was a force to be reckoned with, being the mother of five and the twins. She was not particularly tall, but Arcturus knew her scolding was legendary, just from what he’d heard from the twins. When he first arrived at the Burrow, he expected a woman of large stature wielding a whip (according to Fred). He hadn’t expected the rather short, plump woman with the same fiery red hair as the twins and a kind, gentle smile. She’d wrapped Arcturus up in a hug and immediately declared he was too skinny. Dinner the first night and every meal after consisted of Mrs. Weasley piling Arcturus’s plate high with food and demanding he eat it all. Arcturus never had to be told twice, but he had on more than one occasion practically rolled away from the table after a meal.

Ron shot the twins a dirty look but still obeyed his mother and returned to the house.

“You three had best come inside as well. Supper is almost ready. In you get!”

Mrs. Weasley was so different from Arcturus’s mother. Lenora had been young when she’d had Arcturus and frankly had few skills that would be of use raising a young boy. She’d gotten the hang of most of it eventually, but some things she struggled with throughout Arcturus’s childhood. Like cooking. She was shite at cooking, always opting to get take-away. And cleaning. Growing up a Malfoy meant she’d had house-elves to do all the cleaning around the house. She couldn’t do a Scourgify to save her skin. Mrs. Weasley was nothing like that. Arcturus wasn’t sure he liked it, but then she wasn’t his mother. She was his friends’ mother. Being at the Burrow for the last two weeks, Arcturus had been very careful to draw that line in his mind. He wasn’t looking for a new family. He was fine on his own.

Thinking of family always seemed to bring Arcturus’s mind around to Remus. The Squibs still didn’t know that Arcturus kept up correspondence with his father’s ex-friend from Hogwarts, or that he snuck out of the house to meet up with said friend. Remus was nice, though. They talked about all sorts of things, from Quidditch to schoolwork to the Squibs. Remus counselled Arcturus to have patience with Marius and Ariadne, and to try to understand their point of view. Arcturus just wanted to set off a few dung bombs in their room and really give them something to wrinkle their noses at.

There was one thing that was bugging him. It seemed that Remus was busy an awful lot sometimes. Arcturus knew he didn’t have a job. Where he lived or how he ate, Arcturus didn’t know. He’d brought out sandwiches to the park a few times, purposefully making more than he would normally eat. Remus saw right through his attempt, of course.

“I don’t want you to worry about me,” Remus told him, point-blank when Arcturus had tried to foist an extra bag of crisps on him. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“But you’re out of work,” Arcturus blurted out.

“I am not _out of work_ ,” Remus replied, stressing his point. “And even if I was, I am a fully-grown wizard, more than capable of seeing to my own basic needs. I don’t want you feeling the need to steal food in a kind, however misguided, attempt to care for me.”

Still, Remus ate the crisps and any other food Arcturus brought with him as “extras”, though he would give Arcturus a very pointed look beforehand. And yet, despite Remus’s protestations, Arcturus could clearly see him becoming thinner and more tired. His clothes were as patched and raggedy as ever and briefly Arcturus thought of stealing some of Marius’s clothes to give to him. But that was out of the question. He tolerated Arcturus’s attempts to feed him. Arcturus doubted he would take anything more than that.

And then, as summer drew to a close and Remus was looking at his thinnest, he announced to Arcturus that he had a job.

“It’s not much,” he admitted. “But it will keep me busy so I might take longer to return your correspondence during the school year.”

Arcturus didn’t care, though. He was just happy for Remus. They celebrated with a trip to the cinema, which Arcturus hadn’t seen since he was small, and fish and chips, a wholly Muggle food that Arcturus had never had before. The movie was shoddy but the fish was good, even if Arcturus wasn’t used to deep fried food. But the best part was that Marius and Ariadne’s heads would’ve no doubt exploded had they known Arcturus was partaking in something so common and non-magical.

Remus disappeared again after that, but he’d warned Arcturus that his new job would take him away, sometimes even out of Britain. When September 1st came around and Arcturus once more travelled to Kings Cross with the Squibs, he was more than relieved to be going back to Hogwarts where he wouldn’t have to deal with the disapproving glares from his Aunt or Uncle. When he made it onto the platform he quickly found Lee surrounded by his fellow Gryffindors and holding a very suspicious-looking box.

“Give us a look, Lee. Go on.”

Curious, Arcturus crowded in as Lee lifted the lid with a smirk. An extremely long spider leg poked through the opening and the crowd jumped back, a few of the girls squealing.

“What do you plan on doing with that?” Arcturus asked. His own mind was already spinning with the possibilities.

“Not sure yet,” Lee shrugged, securing the lid once more. “Fred and George mentioned that their little brother, Ron, was afraid of spiders.”

“Who put the Engorgement Charm on it?”

Lee winked. “Nobody. That’s how I found it.”

“Right. Have you seen Fred and George?”

“I think they went to help some firstie with his trunk.”

“Alright, see you on the train.”

Arcturus left Lee to his new flock of admirers and went in search of the twins. He was sure they were here because he’d caught sight of their elder brother, Percy, flashing his new Prefect badge at some rowdy third years. It wasn’t until the train was moving, though, did he finally find them, heading down the corridor towards where Arcturus and Lee had put their own trunks.

“There you are, Archie ole boy!” George slapped Arcturus on the back in greeting.

“Bet you’ll never guess who _we_ met today,” Fred said smugly.

“Nicolas Flamel,” Arcturus replied sarcastically.

“Close! Harry Potter!”


	13. Potter

Chapter 13: Potter

“You have to come meet him. He’s in the compartment with Ronniekins.”

Fred grabbed Arcturus’s sleeve and began towing him back down the corridor but Arcturus dug his foot in.

“Get off me!” Arcturus managed to release Fred’s grip and instinctively straightened his clothes before he realized he was away from the Squibs and nobody would care if his shirt was untucked or mussed.

“Alright, but come on, we—“

“I don’t want to go,” Arcturus declared, folding his hands across his chest.

Fred and George looked confused.

“Why not?”

Arcturus snorted. “Do I really have to spell it out for you?”

But the twins only seemed confused. With a huff Arcturus pulled them into the nearest empty compartment and closed the door.

“My father is Sirius Black.”

“Yeah, notorious mass-murderer, we know,” George replied.

“The notorious mass-murderer who was friends with the Potters and betrayed them to the Dark Lord and got them killed and orphaned their son. That’s a pretty awesome introduction, don’t you think?”

At last Fred and George seemed to understand Arcturus’s apprehension.

“But…I don’t think he’d blame _you_ for that…” George said tentatively.

“Yeah,” agreed Fred. “Both of you were just babies. It’s not like you had anything to do with it.”

Arcturus snorted derisively. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about wizards, it’s that they can hold a grudge. Harry Potter won’t even know I exist if I can help it.”

“How are you going to do that?” George asked. “I mean, you’re going to the same school for the next six years together. He’s going to find out eventually.”

“Well it won’t be now,” Arcturus said finally.

Fred sighed, “Archie, my boy, you sure do have a flare for the dramatic. I think you’re making more of this than there actually is. Harry seemed nice. I think you’d like him, if you met him.”

But Arcturus wouldn’t yield and eventually Fred and George simply stopped trying to convince him. They set off back towards the compartment where Lee was surrounded by yet more students who seemed to have never seen an Engorged tarantula before. It was ridiculous, but Arcturus had to admire Lee’s presentation. It was quite some time before the last of the curious left their compartment and they were able to change into their school robes. The sun was setting and they would be at Hogwarts soon.

The platform was buzzing as the Hogwarts Express came to a stop in the Hogsmeade station and the students flooded from the train. To Arcturus’s chagrin, there seemed to be only one worthwhile topic of discussion this year. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts. Unconsciously Arcturus found himself looking around, seeing if he could spot the boy in question, but he quickly gave up. He was just a short second-year and he didn’t even know what the kid looked like!

Hagrid called over the crowd for the first-years while the rest of the students headed for the carriages, pulled by those creepy black creatures with leathery which Arcturus had learned were called thestrals. He didn’t like to think of why he could see them but most of the other students couldn’t. Instead he categorically ignored them as he climbed into the carriage with Fred and George and it lurched up to road towards the glowing lights of Hogwarts.

The Great Hall was almost full by the time Arcturus and his friends found their way to the Gryffindor table. They were forced to take a spot by the top of the Gryffindor table, nearest to the teachers. Nobody liked sitting there with the faculty staring down at them, and so that part of the table was left open and the newly Sorted first-years would end up sitting there.

“Would you listen to all them, Freddie?”

Fred shook his head. “It’s like they’ve never seen a celebrity before.”

Arcturus snorted. “You’ve only seen him once.”

“Never mind the details,” Fred retorted.

The next moment the doors of the Great Hall opened and Professor McGonagall entered trailing the first-years who looked around in wide-eyed wonder and amazement. Arcturus wondered if he had looked like that last year. He hoped not as McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on its stool and the old hat began its yearly song. Once it was finished, McGonagall launched into the Sorting right away. Arcturus spotted his cousin, Draco, in the crowd and was unsurprised with he was Sorted into Slytherin. Lord and Lady Malfoy would have something to prattle about to the other pureblood families. Arcturus also spotted Ron’s red hair peeking out over the crowd.

“Potter, Harry!”

The hall broke out into a cacophony of whispers as a small boy with black hair and glasses slipped away from the crowd and sat down on the stool. As the Sorting Hat was placed on his head and fell down over his eyes, the whole hall sat in silence, waiting for the old seam to split open and declare in which House the Boy-Who-Lived would spend the next seven years.

But nothing happened. As the seconds stretched on, the murmuring started.

“What’s taking so long?” George whispered.

Arcturus shrugged.

At last the seam split open-wide and exclaimed,” Gryffindor!”

The entire Great Hall burst into applause, but none were louder than Gryffindor House and none in Gryffindor could drown out Fred and George.

“We got Potter! We got Potter!” they shouted over the crowd, as if it were some great victory. Maybe it was. After all Harry Potter was legendary. He defeated the Dark Lord when he was only a year old, and he’s the only known survivor of the Killing Curse. Arcturus tensed as Potter climbed onto the bench next to him, grinning from ear to ear. He caught a glimpse of the famous lightning scar before resolutely staring down at his empty plate. Across the table Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, reached out to pat Potter’s hand. The boy shivered involuntarily and Arcturus didn’t blame him. Touching a ghost was like plunging into a pool of freezing water.

Ron, the twins’ younger brother, was sorted into Gryffindor too and their older brother Percy, who was a prefect this year, reached across to congratulate him primly. They finished up the Sorting and McGonagall took the Sorting Hat away as Dumbledore got to his feet. The hall quieted as the Headmaster raised his arms as if he was going to try to encompass them all in a big hug.

“Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!”

Arcturus and the other students clapped and cheered but Potter seemed a bit confused.

“Is he—a bit mad?” he asked Percy uncertainly.

Arcturus snorted and Percy shot him a glare.

“He’s a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry?”

The food had appeared and Potter looked at it all as if he’d never seen food before in his life. Arcturus and the others went about piling their plates but Potter simply sat there gaping at it all before Arcturus finally became fed up and reached over to toss a few legs of chicken on his plate.

“You’re supposed to eat it, Potter,” he said as he took some chicken for himself as well.

Potter blinked and seemed to break out of his stupor. He quickly began taking a bit of everything until there was no room on his plate and then he dug in like he hadn’t had a decent meal in his life. With how skinny he looked, sitting there next to Arcturus, it very well might’ve been true.

“It’s not going to disappear yet,” Arcturus told him and Potter flushed in embarrassment before slowing down and eating at a more normal pace. He swallowed a particularly large bite.

“Disappear?”

“Well yeah, you don’t expect us to _clean_ all this? What do you think magic’s for?”

“Right, magic,” Potter muttered under his breath.

Arcturus was rather enjoying the feast before one of the firsties asked Nearly Headless Nick how he could be _nearly_ headless, and then Arcturus promptly lost his appetite as Nick tipped his almost severed head off his shoulders to the amazement of the first years. He then proceeded to prattle on about the House cup which Arcturus really didn’t care anything about. Sure Gryffindor hadn’t won in six years, and maybe Arcturus had contributed to that last year, but who cared?

They finished supper which then vanished and was replaced by dessert. Arcturus was making himself a rather impressive sundae of ice cream, strawberries, and chocolate éclairs when the conversation turned towards a topic he’d rather not discuss.

“I’m half-and-half,” explained one of the first years, whose name was Seamus. “Me dad’s a Muggle. Mom didn’t tell him she was a witch ‘til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him.”

The others laughed while Arcturus focused on mixing the proper ratio of chocolate ice cream to chocolate éclair.

“What about you Neville?” Ron asked.

“Well, my gran brought me up and she’s a witch,” Neville said, “but the family thought I was all-Muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off guard and force some magic out of me—he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned—but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced—all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here—they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad.”

“That’s nothing,” Ron replied. “Last summer we were at the lake jumping off the swing into the water and I actually flew for a bit.”

Fred laughed. “You didn’t fly, Ronniekins,” he said, ruffling Ron’s hair.

“Did too. Arcturus saw it, didn’t you?”

Arcturus smirked as he took a scoop of his sundae. “I saw you _fall_ Ronniekins, flapping your arms like a drunken duck.”

“Ouch!” Harry hissed suddenly, clutching his forehead.

“What is it?” Percy asked.

“N-nothing,” Harry assured him, though Arcturus saw him rub the scar on his forehead.

“Who’s that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?” he asked.

The rest of the table looked up to the Head Table and Arcturus spotted the professor in question.

“That’s Snape,” he growled. “Head of Slytherin and resident vampire.”

“Show some respect,” Percy chastised. “It’s _Professor_ Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn’t want to—everyone knows he’s after Quirrell’s job. That’s probably why Quirrell looks so nervous. Professor Snape knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, but he’s not a _vampire_.”

“Cause he’s a right foul git,” Arcturus retorted. “He’ll take points off just for breathing too loudly. He hates Gryffindors.”

“Well perhaps if you study more and follow the rules, you won’t have so many detentions with him this year.”

“Then who would clean out all of poor _Professor_ Snape’s cauldrons?” Arcturus asked innocently.

Fred and George laughed and even Potter cracked a smile. Dessert disappeared and Dumbledore stood up to give some start-of-term notices.

“First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.” The Headmaster looked right at Arcturus and the Weasley twins who looked the picture of naïve innocence.

“I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

“Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

“And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.”

Potter laughed but the rest of the hall seemed to understand that Dumbledore was entirely serious on the matter and Arcturus suppressed a snicker as Potter asked Percy if the Headmaster was serious. Percy assured him Dumbledore was very serious and made some comment about being a prefect but Arcturus wasn’t paying much attention anymore. He’d caught Fred and George’s eyes and already he was turning over different options for getting into that third floor corridor. Even if some terrible, horrible beat lurked there, you couldn’t tell a school full of curious children to not go somewhere, just because.

They rounded up the feast with the school song, which Arcturus hadn’t sang last year and still didn’t sing this year, no matter how the Weasley twins tried to goad him into joining them in their funeral dirge. Finally they were dismissed and Arcturus was all too happy to head up to Gryffindor tower.

“So what do you think of him, Archie boy?” George asked as they climbed the many staircases up to their dormitory.

“I thought Dumbledore was just as cracked as always,” Arcturus replied.

“Not Dumbledore, though you may be right about that. Harry Potter, what did you think? Not at all a big mean grudge-holder, is he?”

Arcturus thought back to his interactions with Potter and all the questions the boy had asked during dinner.

“I don’t think he’s done a lick of magic in his life,” he said. “I don’t think he’s even really seen it.”

“No way,” Fred insisted. “He’s Harry Potter!”

“And you’re Fred and he’s George. Who cares? I’m telling you, he doesn’t know anything about magic.”

“Alright, alright. So, you going to join the team this year? You’re eligible, and you know Wood is looking for a new Seeker.”

“If you make a joke about me being short I’ll hex your bum so big you won’t be able to sit in a chair.”

“You have a strange fixation with my bum. But you should still try out. You weren’t any worse than Ronniekins this summer and you know Wood is looking for some fresh blood. We haven’t won a game in…” Fred trailed off.

“A while,” George said at last.

“I’m shite at Seeker, but I’ll think about it. Just don’t tell Wood. That guy is crazy when it comes to Quidditch. What’s the new password?”

“Percy said it was ‘Caput Draconis’.”

The portrait of the Fat Lady seemed disappointed that they’d gotten the password right and swung open, letting the warmth of a roaring fire wash over them. As they entered the Gryffindor common room where other students milled around, talking about their holidays and catching up with friends, Arcturus couldn’t help but grin. It was good to be back.


	14. A Disaster on a Broom

Chapter 14: A Disaster on a Broom

Arcturus was in the library, pretending to do his work when Fred and George entered wearing just the type of grins that made Arcturus happy when they were pulling a prank together, but nervous when they weren’t.

“Alright, Archie boy, you’re in,” Fred told him, sitting down in the seat next to Arcturus.

“What do you mean, ‘I’m in’?” he asked lowly.

“You’re on the Quidditch roster. George and I signed you up with Madam Hooch. Try-outs are this Saturday.”

“I said I’d think about it. I didn’t want you to actually sign me up!”

“Mister Black,” Madam Pince, the librarian, hissed as she rose from her desk and scurried across the library. “I am warning you only once, I will not have you or your friends disturbing my library and disrespecting my books. Not this year. This is your only chance.”

“Of course, ma’am,” Arcturus replied courteously.

She narrowed her eyes at him, looking between Arcturus and the Weasley twins, trying to tell if he was sassing her or if he was being earnest.

“Your only chance,” she repeated before returning to her desk.

“I swear she gets more uptight each year,” George muttered when Madam Pince was out of earshot. “So, Freddie and I were thinking that tomorrow during free period we’d take you down to the pitch, dust off the cobwebs and get you into fighting shape. What do you think?”

“I think it’d be a waste of time since I’m not actually going to make Seeker.”

“You haven’t seen some of the other names on this list. That McLaggen bloke signed up, for Merlin’s sake.”

At the mention of McLaggen, Arcturus couldn’t help but tense up. It was a knee-jerk reaction by now. After being forced to live in the same room with him for the last year, listening to his bragging and general posturing, his hands automatically curved into fists at the mere mention of the berk’s name, just in case he finally decided to punch the wanker.

Fred and George knew how much Arcturus hated McLaggen, and they also knew that mentioning him would make Arcturus agree to try-out, just to ensure that McLaggen didn’t make the team.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “Now get out of here. I have to keep my grades if I’m going to be on the team.”

“You weren’t studying anyways,” Fred retorted. “If I know you—“

“And I’d say we know you pretty well by now,” George added.

“—you’re trying to figure out what Dumbledore’s hiding in that third-floor corridor, aren’t you?”

“And if I am? Do you have any ideas?”

“Not a clue,” George replied. “But whatever it is, it’s being held behind a locked door with something big on the other side.”

Arcturus glanced around to make sure nobody was trying to eavesdrop before leaning in closer. “You mean, you’ve gone already?”

“Maybe George and I took a little stroll around the third floor corridor after Potions yesterday. You know it is quite easy to become lost in this castle.”

“And?”

“And there might be a locked door at the end of the corridor and something very big shuffling around behind it.”

“The map doesn’t show it though, so it’s not human.”

“A beast?”

Arcturus looked down at the rather large book he’d been pouring over just a few moments ago. The book was about magical objects, many of which were dark. He was surprised that a book like that was in the general section of the Hogwarts library, but then most students wouldn’t really know about the dark nature of most of these objects. It was only because he was a Black that Arcturus had even heard of them. Malfoy liked to brag and he’d taken Arcturus into the Malfoy library on more than one occasion to show him all the books on the Dark Arts. He’d thought that maybe Dumbledore could be holding something like that. But if it was a beast of some sort…

“Why would Dumbledore keep a beast locked up in the school?” he muttered. “That doesn’t’ make any sense. There’s a whole forest for it to run around.”

“Maybe it’s a werewolf,” George said, a little too excited by the idea. “Or a vampire.”

“I bet it’s a banshee,” Fred added. “That’s why it has to stay locked up instead of in the forest.”

Whatever it was, they probably should just leave it alone. But that wasn’t Arcturus’ style. He was too curious. His mother had said it would get him into trouble, and maybe it would, if not this time some other time. But that didn’t mean he would stop.

The next day during free period after lunch, Arcturus and the Weasley twins with Lee headed down to the pitch, the twins carrying the chest of balls between them with their brooms propped over their shoulders. Arcturus clutched his own broom in hand, feeling that this was a horrible idea the closer they came to the pitch. Lee was just there because he had nothing better to do. He actually wasn’t trying out for the team because McGonagall had agreed to let him commentate the first match of the season on a trial basis.

“This is a stupid idea,” Arcturus muttered as the twins set the chest down in the centre of the field and unlocked it. Inside the two bludgers fought at their bonds while the Quaffle sat idle in the middle. Fred reached down and flicked open the crest, revealing a small compartment which housed a Golden Snitch.

“Alright, Archie boy,” he said. “Let’s see what you’ve got.” He tossed the Snitch into the air where it spread its wings and darted off. Arcturus was able to follow it for a few seconds before it disappeared into the sky.

Fred and George then proceeded to run him through the most physically demanding flying test Arcturus had ever experienced. They did lap after lap with dives and climbs and acrobatic tricks. Arcturus lost count of how many times he’d almost killed himself. More than a few times he’d been dangling from his broom by his fingertips and Fred or George had to come over and help him back on. Lee was laughing most of the time from the bleachers, providing his own running commentary of Arcturus’s flubs.

“Oo! Another botched move by Black. He is _really_ struggling out there. You have to wonder, how could—“

“ _Pipiato_ ,” Arcturus growled, jabbing his wand in Lee’s direction. With a squawk, Lee’s commentary cut off and was replaced by the chirps and twitters of a songbird. Lee clapped his hand over his mouth in confusion, and then tentatively tried it out before deciding that he rather enjoyed only being able to tweet like a bird and proceeded to serenade them. Fred and George burst into laughter and even Arcturus couldn’t help but grin and chuckle. They goaded Lee into saying more and he rose to the occasion until Quidditch was nearly forgotten.

“We have to get back for class,” Arcturus said, sinking down until both feet were solidly on the ground once more to his immense relief.

Lee chirped, but none of them could understand him.

“How long is this supposed to last?” George asked.

Arcturus shrugged. “An hour or so.”

“Don’t you have Transfiguration next, though?”

Arcturus winced. McGonagall would not find Lee’s current predicament nearly as funny as the rest of his friends or Lee himself did. Points would be taken, most likely.

“Oh well,” Fred shrugged. “Hey Arcturus, you ever see the Snitch?”

All four boys looked around, but there was no sign of the little golden ball anywhere. Students were beginning to come out of the castle, heading for their next class in the greenhouses. They didn’t have time to try and find the Snitch.

“Forget about it,” Arcturus replied.

George snorted. “Some Seeker _you_ are.”

“I’m not a Seeker.”

“Yet.”

Arcturus rolled his eyes and shoved George good-naturedly as the four of them returned to the castle. Arcturus and Lee reported to Transfiguration, sitting in their normal seats. Part of Arcturus hoped that they would get through this class without Professor McGonagall calling on Lee, but another part of him couldn’t wait to see the results. He was not disappointed either.

“Mr. Jordan, please explain why it would be more difficult to transform these two rabbits into another species of animal.”

Lee took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak, but instead of words he could only chirp. Professor McGonagall pursed her lips in disproval as the rest of the class laughed at Lee’s expense. Arcturus had to force himself to laugh along as if he hadn’t known what would happen. McGonagall wasn’t fooled for a moment, however.

“ _Mister_ Black, would you care to explain why Mister Jordan cannot speak _properly_?”

Arcturus shrugged, putting on his usual show of innocence.

“Perhaps an _Avifors_ spell gone wrong, Professor? Or he swallowed a canary.”

The class burst out laughing once more but Arcturus fought to keep the corners of his mouth turned down and his expression solemn with a hint of concern for his housemate.

“I see, well then you may escort him to the Hospital Wing, and once he his mended, join me tonight for some remedial work. _Avifors_ is a first-year transfiguration, Mr. Black. If you can’t perform this one properly, you will find yourself struggling this year. After supper, tonight. Off with you, before Mr. Jordan sprouts feathers.”

“Of course, Professor McGonagall,” Arcturus replied, happy to avoid losing points, but not relishing his evening detention with McGonagall. It would be a far cry better than detention with Filch or Snape, but McGonagall was strict.

“Nothing gets past that old bird, does it?” Arcturus remarked when they were beyond the classroom and well on their way to the Infirmary.

Lee just twittered and Arcturus shrugged.

“No idea what you just said.”

That evening, Arcturus dutifully reported to the Transfiguration classroom where McGonagall sat grading essays. She looked up as he knocked on the door.

“Take a seat, Mr. Black,” she told him austerely.

Arcturus slumped down into his usual desk and took out his Transfiguration book, sure that McGonagall would have him working on remedial work. That was a favourite way for her to pass detention.

“Not tonight, Mr. Black,” she said, standing and walking around to the front of her desk. “We have not had the opportunity to speak privately. I think tonight would be a fine chance.”

“Of course, Professor,” Arcturus replied, leaning back in his chair, the picture of relaxation. “What would you like to talk about?”

“You have certainly been making a reputation for yourself since arriving at Hogwarts.”

Arcturus shrugged. “I can’t help what people say _about_ me, Professor.”

“Mr. Black, I am well aware of your involvement in certain events in this school, and of your friendship with the Weasley Twins.” She held up a hand to halt his protests. “I have been a professor at this school for many years and I have seen my fair share of troublemakers. Your father and his friends had a particular penchant for trouble.”

Arcturus bristled at the mention of his father, but McGonagall either didn’t notice or chose not to comment.

“You are a very bright young wizard, and you have a talent in Transfiguration and Charms. The Charms, I think, is from your mother.”

And just like that the irritation he felt at his father was washed away by the familiar feelings of love and longing he felt for his mother. It had been a few years, but he still missed her.

“I understand that your family circumstances are not the best, Mr. Black,” Professor McGonagall said gently. “But there have been many great witches and wizards who have come from less-than-ideal backgrounds. I expect you will make something of yourself, but it is your choice of what that something is. It would be a shame to see you follow the same road as your father.”

“I am _not_ like my father, Professor,” Arcturus retorted.

“Then prove me wrong, Mr. Black.”

McGonagall returned to her desk and picked up her quill once more. “You may use the rest of your detention to work on your Transfiguration essay. I expect it to be Outstanding.”

Arcturus, grumbling, pulled out his Transfiguration book once more. He agitatedly began to scrawl notes from his book when McGonagall spoke up once more.

“And Mr. Black?”

“ _Professor_?” Arcturus bit out through gritted teeth.

“Our Quidditch team is in need of a top-rate Seeker. Good luck in your trial this weekend.”

The next day at lunch, all of Gryffindor table was buzzing. Arcturus sat down with Fred and George, having just finished a rather long double Herbology class. He flicked some dirt off his robes before grabbing a sandwich.

“What’s everyone talking about?”

“Tough luck mate, looks like trials were cancelled,” Fred told him.

“Cancelled? Why?”

“Wood’s found a Seeker. The youngest in a century!” George replied.

“Who?”

“Harry Potter!”


	15. Famous Harry Potter

Chapter 15: Famous Harry Potter

As the first couple of months in the new term passed, Arcturus threw himself into his school work with a vigour that surprised all of his professors, and most of Gryffindor House. Even after just one year, Arcturus had already garnered a reputation as a prankster and delinquent, the former in the eyes of his peers and the latter in that of his professors. But through September and most of October, if one wanted to find Arcturus Black they need only look in the library, where they would find him studiously bent over one book or another, taking notes. His professors couldn’t really complain. For the first time since arriving at Hogwarts he was finally ‘living up to his potential’, earning straight O’s with perhaps one or two E’s every now and then. But, it was obvious to see that he was, not himself. Fred, George, and Lee were those who noticed the most, and tried to voice their opinions.

“C’mon, you’re being boring, mate,” Lee told him, one night when he’d come to pull Arcturus from the library but was having a tough time of it.

“I’m trying to focus on my Transfiguration paper,” Arcturus grumbled.

“Last night you were doing your Potion’s essay,” Lee complained. “Fred and George got some dung bombs and they want to set them off in the Slytherin’s bathroom. Don’t you want to see their faces?”

“Not really,” Arcturus retorted.

Lee frowned and seemed to be about to leave when he suddenly pulled the chair out and sat down across from his friend.

“What’s got your knickers in a twist?” he demanded.

Arcturus snorted. “There’s nothing—“

“Bollocks.”

“ _Mister_ Jordan!” hissed Madam Pince.

“Apologies, ma’am, a slip of the tongue.” Lee leaned in over the desk, his voice dropping barely above a whisper.

“You’ve been in a strop about something since the Quidditch Trials were cancelled. You and I _both_ know you didn’t really want to be Gryffindor Seeker, so what is it? You can’t be jealous of Potter.”

“I’m not _jealous_ of Potter,” Arcturus hissed back. “He’s a stupid little firstie who got lucky.”

“That’s not how Fred and George tell it. They say he’s a natural at practice. The best flier they’ve ever seen.”

“Well why don’t you go join them and everyone else then? That seems to be all anyone can talk about anyways.”

Lee’s eyes widened. “You _are_ jealous!”

“No, I’m not. I’m just tired of hearing all about Harry Potter. That's all anyone talks about anymore. Maybe I just want to focus on other things.”

“Then focus on the dungbombs. There are more important things than just schoolwork.”

“I dare you to tell that to McGonagall next time you don’t have your essay.”

“You’re being a git.”

“And you’re being a pain in my a—“

“Mister Black, Mister Jordan, leave now.”

“But I haven’t finished my essay, ma’am,” Arcturus protested.

“You’ve been doing nothing but disturbing my library. You’re done for the week. Out.”

With a grumble and a great deal of unnecessary thumping, Arcturus gathered up his school work and book and threw them into his bag under the vigilant eye of Madam Pince. The two of them were escorted out with one last warning not to return that evening or any other evening the rest of the week.

“Look what you did!” Arcturus snapped, turning on his heel and storming off down the corridor.

“I’m not the one who shouted in the library,” Lee retorted, running to catch up.

“I wouldn’t have shouted if you would just leave me alone.”

“And I wouldn’t have to bother you if you would stop acting like a stuck-up prat!”

“Oi, you two, take this lover’s quarrel someplace else!” growled the man in a painting of a young couple by a lake. “Some of us are in the middle of something!” The woman with the man didn’t seem to like his words, as she hit him in the arm and then promptly stomped out of the painting. The man ran off after her and Arcturus sniffed in derision.

“Stupid blighter.”

“You could say that again,” Lee agreed.

The two of them stood awkwardly, alone in the hallway, neither daring to say a word until they spoke at the same time.

“I’m sorry I—“

“You first,” Lee said.

Arcturus sighed, shifting his bag on his shoulder. “I’m sorry I was such a git,” he said. “And that I haven’t been…around.”

“And I’m sorry I got you kicked out of the library for it,” Lee replied.

“Now, you said something about dungbombs earlier?”

Lee glanced down at his watch. “If we hurry, we still have time to make it before supper.”

“Well we can’t have the Slytherins coming back to a sweet-smelling bathroom, can we?”

A few hours later when Arcturus was hidden around the corner with Fred, George, and Lee and their noses plugged with cotton against the acrid smell coming from the Slytherin bathroom, he could barely contain his laughter, watching all of them come out in various stages of their evening routines. Especially funny was seeing his cousin Malfoy, wearing only a towel with shampoo suds still in his hair as he slipped and went sprawling into his two goons, Crabbe and Goyle.

“The containment charm was a nice touch,” Fred murmured as he sat next to Arcturus the next morning at breakfast. The Slytherins were looking quite dishevelled. Obviously with Arcturus’s containment charm the fumes from the dungbombs still hadn’t dissipated.

“It’s always nice to do some good ‘ole community service,” Arcturus replied.

“We have some great ideas for Halloween,” George said. “There’s this statue on the third floor…”

And so the two weeks to Halloween passed rather quickly for Arcturus and his friends as they made their big Halloween plans. Fred and George had discovered a secret passage on the third floor inside the statue of Gunhilda of Gorsemoor, a one-eyed, humped witch. With the right password, they could follow the statue all the way to Honeydukes in Hogsmeade and from there, the possibilities were endless.

“Butterbeers, chocolate frogs, pumpkin pasties, liquorice wands, everything we could need. Gryffindor won’t know what hit it!”

The four of them were bent over the table during the Halloween feast, thinking about the supplies they’d stocked up on that were waiting for them just beyond the one-eyed witch statue. After supper they would sneak down and bring it all up to Gryffindor Tower under a Disillusionment charm and the party would continue well into the night.

“Troll! In the dungeon! Troll in the dungeon!”

Arcturus and every other person in the Great Hall froze as Professor Quirrell burst through the doors, screaming his head off. All hell broke loose when he promptly collapsed.

“Silence!” Dumbledore’s voice broke through the mayhem with the help of a Sonorous Charm. The students all looked to him, panic written across their faces. Arcturus already had his wand in his hand and was half out of his seat.

“Everyone, please, do not panic. Prefects will escort their house back to their dormitories. And teachers will come with me to the dungeon.”

There was slightly less panic, but the students still quickly exited the Great Hall, breaking off in large groups back to their dormitories. Arcturus made sure that he was definitely not the last one, not in the mood to face down a troll by himself. Only a dafty would do that! They made it back to Gryffindor tower without running into anything and Percy Weasley and the other prefects made a big show of counting everyone. However, it quickly became clear that not all of Gryffindor had returned.

“Ron and Harry aren’t here,” Fred said, looking out over the crowd but being unable to spot his little brother, or his brother’s friend. Others started to realize the famous Harry Potter was missing too.

“Where were they last seen?” Percy asked everyone and anyone.

“I think I saw him at supper,” one of the other first year boys said. Finnegan, Arcturus thought his name was.

“Everyone stay here; I must alert Professor McGonagall.” Percy swept out of the portrait hole as all of Gryffindor immediately split into groups, whispering about Potter and his friend and where oh where could the Golden Boy be! Huffing, Arcturus climbed the stairs towards the third-year boy’s dormitory. Fred, George, and Lee were just behind him.

“Where are you going?” Lee called.

“To get the stuff,” Arcturus replied.

“But the troll—“

“I don’t see why we can’t have a little fun while we’re all stuck here.” He began to pull out the parcels from Honeydukes from where they were hidden under the twins’ beds. “Are you lot going to help me or not?”

“You know what, I like the way you think Archie boy,” George said at last before he crouched down and started pulling out the bottles of Butterbeer. Between the four of them, they gathered up as much as they could carry before heading back down to the Gryffindor common room, which had become rather sombre.

“Hey!” Arcturus shouted, grabbing the attention of just about everyone in the common room. “What are you lot looking all grim for? It’s Halloween!” He tossed a couple of Zonko’s products into the air which went off with a burst of flashing lights and whistles as Fred and George tossed all of their sweets on the nearest table and Lee set down the tub of Butterbeers. All at once the common room burst to life as every Gryffindor rushed to grab sweets, wondering how Arcturus and his friends had managed to get all of this in and thumping them on the back for their good work. Somebody brought out a radio and soon the Weird Sisters were singing about Hippogriffs and Gryffindor had a party!

A while later the portrait opened and Potter and Fred and George’s brother entered with a girl first-year but nobody seemed to notice as more food had appeared courtesy of the Hogwarts house-elves. Word of what happened didn’t circulate until the next morning when Arcturus slumped down at the breakfast table, his head throbbing from the noise and staying up far too late the night before.

“Did you hear?” asked a fourth-year girl Arcturus just happened to sit beside.

“Hear what?” Arcturus grumbled as he scrapped marmalade over his muffin.

“Harry Potter found the troll, and killed it!”

Fred and George perked up at that. “Killed it? How?”

The fourth-year was all too ready to launch into the long and no-doubt embellished tale of how the great Harry Potter had tracked down the mountain troll and cornered it in the bathroom before using all manner of advanced magic to kill it.”

“Lauren Daugherty saw Quirrell dragging it out to the Forbidden Forest! It was definitely dead.”

Arcturus wanted to groan and beat his head against the table. He, Fred, George, and Lee had worked on their plans for Halloween for ages, had gathered everything they needed and made endless trips to Hogsmeade in the dark of night and yet none of it mattered. Because all that anyone remembered from Halloween was famous Harry Potter who killed a troll with his bare hands if the Hufflepuff at the next table over was to be believed.

Suddenly his muffin looked exceedingly unappetizing. Arcturus gathered up his things and decided he would benefit from arriving at Herbology early that day. Maybe he could help Sprout pick Leaping Toadstools for the day’s lesson. Or maybe she’d let him have a go at a Venomous Tentacula. Anything was better than sitting in the Great Hall and listening to this drivel.

As the weeks passed, the weather became cold but that meant one thing. Quidditch season was starting. Fred and George were busy with practices which meant Arcturus usually ended up with Lee most of the time. That was where he ended up for the first Gryffindor game of the season against Slytherin. He hadn’t watched a match from a box before, but Lee was announcing. On Lee’s other side sat Professor McGonagall, shooting both boys stern looks as the rest of the school filed in for the match. When the game began, Arcturus immediately spotted Potter, the smallest out there. He looked rather pale and Arcturus found himself grinning. Maybe famous Harry Potter wasn’t the best at everything.

Of course he was proven wrong, again. The game was a good one, with Gryffindor and Slytherin neck and neck. Of course, the Slytherin team was a bunch of dirty cheats and so it wasn’t long before they’d eliminated Wood and Gryffindor’s hoops were left undefended. And then Potter had to go and lose control of his broom, nearly falling off! Arcturus couldn’t decide if he was just doing it for attention, or if he really was that bad of a flier but it didn’t matter.

“Boy that was a close one! But it looks like Potter is back on his broom and he’s diving! Has he seen the—Potter is down. But wait, what has he? He’s got the Snitch! Gryffindor receives one-hundred and fifty points!”

Arcturus couldn’t believe it any more than the Slytherin Quidditch team. Somehow, Potter had caught the Snitch, in his mouth! The stands were a roar of “Potter! Potter! Potter!” and any protestations by Slytherin’s Captain Marcus Flint were drowned out as Gryffindor poured onto the field to congratulate their team on the first win of the season.

“That was some catch, huh?” Lee said, excited by the win.

“He nearly _swallowed_ it,” Arcturus muttered sarcastically.

“I guess he really is a brilliant Seeker.”


	16. Christmas at Hogwarts

Chapter 16: Christmas at Hogwarts

“I’m sorry Arcturus, but with Dora in Auror training, Ted and I thought this might be a good chance to spend Christmas with his family in Cornwall. They’re muggles, and while I’m sure they would welcome an extra for the holidays…”

“The Squibs would have a fit,” Arcturus finished for her. “And anyways, they’re your family. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Arcturus you are never imposing—“

“Thanks, but I think I’ll stay at Hogwarts for Christmas this year,” Arcturus replied. “Have a good holiday, Aunt.”

He pulled his head out of the Floo before Andromeda could protest or insist that he _should_ come along with them to Cornwall. He didn’t really want to spend Christmas hols with a bunch of boring old muggles anyways. Dusting the soot from his robes, Arcturus rose from the Gryffindor fireplace and strode across the room to where McGonagall had posted a sign-up for those staying for the Christmas holidays this year. He signed his name with a flourish and an added pointed flick to his crossed “t”.

“Well, fancy seeing you here,” Fred commented as he and his brother climbed through the portrait hole.

“This is the Gryffindor common room,” Arcturus replied dryly, “and I’m a Gryffindor.”

“Huh, did you know that George?”

“Certainly not, Fred,” George piped up.

But Arcturus really wasn’t in the mood for the twins’ antics. “Would you two bugger off?” he growled.

“Aw, Archie boy, where’s your Christmas cheer?”

“Off to Cornwall,” Arcturus muttered under his breath.

“Well fear not,” Fred declared as he signed his name on the stayover list and handed the quill off to George as he slung an arm over Arcturus’s shoulders. “Mum and Dad are off to Romania this year to visit Charlie, so looks like you’re spending Christmas with us!”

Arcturus snorted. “At least your Great-Aunt Muriel won’t have to turn down the invitation this year.”

Fred sighed wistfully, grinning. “The best dungbomb we ever purchased.”

The last week or so to Christmas passed relatively quickly, although the castle was feeling a bit draughty and Professor Snape seemed to take it upon himself to ensure nobody enjoyed their Christmas holidays by assigning mountains of work and docking points for even mentioning the hols. Of course that didn’t stop Arcturus or his friends from enjoying the snow in their free time.

“Careful, he’ll see you!” Arcturus hissed as he, Fred, and George hid behind a white-frosted tree in the Transfiguration courtyard. All three of them had their eyes on Professor Quirrell, who was making his way along the cleared path, muttering to himself as he often did.

“Mental, that one,” George muttered, making a face at Arcturus.

“Alright, ammunitions ready,” Arcturus whispered, as he placed the final packed snowball on top of their small pile.

“Watch this,” Fred told them, grinning. He pointed his wand at the small pile of snowballs and they rose in the air. With a brisk flick of Fred’s wand, they zoomed off, flying towards the unsuspecting professor. Arcturus had to clamp his hand over his mouth to keep quiet as the first snowball exploded over the back of Quirrell’s ugly purple turban. The professor turned suddenly, but the snowballs went right with him, bouncing off the back of his head before coming around again for another try. It seemed they had made it their mission to follow their compatriot, but always seemed to bounce right off, as if Quirrell’s turban was suddenly made of rubber.

“Brilliant, Forge,” George grinned.

“Indeed, Mr. Weasley.”

Arcturus froze, recognizing that thick Scottish brogue in his sleep. Professor McGonagall stood behind them, having just exited her Transfiguration class and did not appear to be all that impressed by Fred’s Charms work.

“Would you care to explain, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Black?”

“Just a little holiday cheer, Professor?” Fred replied, hesitantly.

Professor McGonagall looked pointedly to Quirrell, who was trying to fend off the snowballs as he hurried inside.

“Not your best work, Mr. Weasley,” she sniffed. “Twenty points from Gryffindor and I will see all of you in detention tonight.”

She didn’t wait for their protests, not that they would’ve made a difference. It could’ve been much worse. That McGonagall only took off twenty points meant one thing to Arcturus.

“The old dame thought it was funny!” he declared, incredulous.

Sure enough detention only consisted of a few half-hearted lines about not pranking faculty members or something like that. Arcturus had long ago learned to write lines without actually paying attention to what he was writing. It was a gift, he told Fred and George wistfully after they returned to the common room.

When the holiday at last started and Arcturus couldn’t help but enjoy having the castle mostly to himself. Sure Lee wasn’t there, but Fred and George kept him well entertained and Arcturus had never really had the opportunity to explore the castle without having to worry about the suspicious glare of professors or nosey prefects. They took advantage of the hidden passageway to Honeydukes and often took trips down to the Hogwarts kitchens where the house-elves practically fell over themselves to give them sweets and any other manner of food. As Arcturus sat back in his chair in the Gryffindor common room on Christmas Eve, having just finished off a warm Butterbeer and the last of the pumpkin pasties, he couldn’t help but wish he could just spend all of his time at Hogwarts like this.

Christmas day dawned and Arcturus was the only one who remained behind in the Gryffindor second year dorm. He stretched languidly before his eyes landed on the modest pile of presents at the foot of his bed. Grinning, he grabbed the first one and knew immediately it was from Tonks. The bright yellow paper made his eyes hurt this early in the morning as he tore into the wrappings and pulled out what appeared to be a small, glass top with a small note written in Tonk’s haphazard penmanship.

“ _Happy Christmas, Arcturus. Since I’m not around to watch your back, I thought you might need this Sneakoscope. It will tell you if someone around you is doing something untrustworthy. Of course, knowing the twins I wouldn’t be surprised if it never stopped! Your friend, Tonks.”_

Arcturus looked down at the Sneakoscope, which remained silent and motionless for now. But he was sure it wouldn’t remain that way for long. The next present was just under Tonks’ and it was from Andromeda and Ted. They got him an assortment of sweets and Arcturus wolfed down a Chocolate frog before moving onto the neatly wrapped box that was sure to be from the Squibs. Despite their mutual disdain of each other, the Squibs continued to give him mostly meaningless gifts each year for Christmas. Last year it had been a fine stationary set. This year it looked like he was getting quills and a new gold inkpot. Of course they thought Arcturus would be pompous enough to use an actual golden inkpot. He promptly wrapped the thing up in the velvet bag it came in and tossed it with the eagle feather quills into his trunk to languish at the bottom with the stationary set before continuing on through his presents. A lot of it was sweets, though there was a fresh pack of dungbombs from Lee. From Fred and George, he got a collection of toffees but one glance at the present and Tonks’ Sneakoscope immediately started whirling and whistling. He wrapped those up and set them aside, sure that he could find _some_ use for them somewhere down the road. Maybe Draco Malfoy liked toffee.

He had just finished when Fred and George themselves burst in without even a knock.

“Happy Christmas!” they exclaimed, practically tackling him.

“Did you open our present?” George asked.

The Sneakoscope on Arcturus’ bed immediately started up again.

“We’re hurt!” Fred groaned.

“I knew there was something wrong with them,” Arcturus declared, shoving the twins off him. “What did you do to them?”

“Why don’t you eat one and find out?”

The Sneakoscope gave a pointed whistle and Arcturus grabbed it and shoved it away in his trunk.

“Maybe later,” he told them. When he finally got a good look at what the twins were wearing over their pajamas, he winced. “What are you wearing?”

Fred tugged at the blue sweater with a large “F”, grinning proudly. “It’s a Weasley sweater, from mum. She makes them every year.”

Arcturus snorted. “I guess she’s afraid you’re going to forget your names or maybe she does it to tell you apart.”

Fred and George looked at each other with those well-known, mischievous grins, a sure sign they were planning something.

“Come on, let’s go see what Ronniekins got for Christmas.”

“No thanks,” Arcturus replied, flopping back on his bed. “Christmas and no Squibs means I get to spend the whole day all by myself.”

“By yourself?” Fred exclaimed. “No way! Christmas is a day for family, and since you’re stuck here with us this year, George and I decided we are officially adopting you into the Weasley family.” He grabbed the box of toffee. “So here, have a sweet.”

Arcturus’s trunk started whistling again.

“No thanks.”

But Fred and George weren’t having it. Exchanging a nod, they each grabbed a hand, hauling him off the bed.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

“Let’s go, Archie boy!” George threw Arcturus’s robe and it smacked him in the face while Fred seemed to be trying to shove his slippers on his feet. Arcturus fought them, but it was no use.

“Alright, alright!” he declared at last, pushing Fred off as he slipped his robe over his shoulders. The twins let up just long enough for Arcturus to make himself look semi-decent before frog-marching him down to the first-year boys’ dormitory. They threw the door open without even a knock and the two boys inside jumped.

“Merry Christmas!”

Arcturus joined them, leaning in the door to watch as Fred and George practically accosted someone else.

“Hey, look—Harry’s got a Weasley jumper, too!”

As Fred held up the lumpy, hand-knitted green sweater Arcturus’s stomach churned and there was a sour taste in his mouth. The words came off his tongue like bile.

“Did she knit it with her eyes closed?” he scoffed.

“Don’t say that,” Potter growled, taking the sweater back from Fred and pulling it over his pyjamas. He ran a hand over the wool reverently. “Tell your mum I said ‘Thank you’?”

Ron and the twins grinned and Arcturus snorted, folding his arms over his chest. Like he would ever wear something so lumpy and hideous.

“What’s all this noise?” Percy the Prefect, ever in other people’s business, stuck his nose through the door carrying his own hideous rag.

“P for Prefect! Get it on Percy, we’re all wearing ours.” Arcturus had to dodge out of the way as Fred and George attacked their brother, intent on wrestling him into his own lumpy sweater. As Arcturus watched their family, he decided he’d had enough of the Weasleys’ Christmas for now. Nobody noticed as he slipped back to his own dormitory to dress for the day and make plans for destroying the Squib’s presents. He needed to work on the Confringo Curse anyways.

It seemed, however, that the Weasley twins did not want to let Arcturus enjoy a quiet Christmas alone. After Christmas dinner, they tracked him down and proceeded to stuff snow down the back of his jacket, instigating a combination hex and snowball fight. He ended the fight with hair nearly the same shade as Fred and George’s but it didn’t matter because he was too out of breath from laughing at the elephant ears he’d given Fred. It also didn’t hurt his mood that he managed to nail famous Harry Potter right in the face with a snowball. So much for his amazing Seeker reflexes.

They ended up back in the common room, lounging around the fire and enjoying a selection of turkey sandwiches, trifle, and Christmas cake provided by the ever-indulgent Hogwarts house-elves. Arcturus was feeling quite round as he lay with his back propped by a few pillows in front of the fire. Fred and George were taking turns poking Percy and pretending it was the other while Potter and Ron were polishing off the last of the food.

“Oh, would you look at this! Happy Christmas, George!” Fred jumped up and made a big show of kneeling before his twin and presenting him with, of all things, Percy’s shining Prefect’s badge.

“How did you—?” Percy sputtered, leaping from his seat to make a grab for the badge. “Give that back! That is _my_ Prefect’s badge and you are _certainly_ not permitted to handle that—no, stop that!”

“Why thank you Fred, but I couldn’t possibly accept this!” George called, as he slipped just out of reach. He tossed the badge across to Fred, laughing.

“Wizard!”

Fred caught the badge over Percy’s head, laughing “Witch!”

He tossed it into Arcturus’s lap, who jumped up as Percy lunged for him. He danced out of the way, tossing the badge back to George. “Goblin!”

“Troll!”

“Keeper!”

“Chaser!”

“Beater!”

“Snitch! Oof!” Percy tackled Fred, wrestling his Prefect’s badge back before standing and attempting to straighten out his once impeccable robes, scowling at the lot of them.

“You are all fortunate it is Christmas,” Percy growled. “Good night!” And he pivoted on his heel and proceed up the stairs to his dormitory.

Arcturus, Fred, and George exchanged a glance before they burst out laughing again. Arcturus groaned as his side ached and his stomach grumbled. Being stuffed full of turkey and tea cakes, this was certainly not the time for mischief!

“I’m going to bed,” he said when the laughter had died down. Groaning he dragged himself off the floor and began the long trod up the stairs to the second-year boys’ dormitory. He barely got out of his robes before he collapsed on the bed, sleeping a deep and contented sleep. He certainly wouldn’t admit it to the twins, but with the Weasleys about, this Christmas maybe hadn’t been as bad as he thought it would.


	17. Victory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first new chapter that was not posted on FF.net.

Chapter 17: Victory

“Have you heard? Snape’s refereeing the match against Hufflepuff! Git!”

“Good morning to you too Fred,” Arcturus yawned, sitting down at the house table in the Great Hall. Mornings were not his forte.

“Snape hates Gryffindor, he shouldn’t be allowed to do this. It’s complete _bollocks_!”

“Mister Weasley!” Professor Flitwick squeaked, having caught the end of Fred’s ranting on his way to the teacher’s table. “Ten points from Gryffindor, mind your language!”

“Of course, Professor, won’t happen again,” Fred replied, but as soon as Flitwick was out of earshot, “Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks, a pox on his family.”

“It is just a Quidditch game mate,” Arcturus grumbled as he filled his plate and sucked down some tea. He wasn’t tired just because it was morning. He was tired because he’d been up late the night before, trying to listen at the third floor corridor door to see if he couldn’t get any clues as to what was beyond it. He wasn’t stupid enough to just bust in without at least having an idea of what he was facing. He only clue had been a sort of low growling noise, very faint so there was probably some sort of noise-buffering charm around the door. It wasn’t much to go on, but it ruled out the earlier suggestions of a banshee. Banshees didn’t growl, they screamed.

“It’s the principle of the whole thing,” George said. “And this game is important. If we win, we would beat out Slytherin for the House Championship. It’s been seven years, mate!”

“So score more points than Hufflepuff. He can’t keep you from scoring, and the other teachers will be there too. If he’s being unfair, McGonagall will straighten him out.”

“He’s never refereed before. It’s just because Slytherin might lose the House Championship. He’s…”

Arcturus tuned them out, confident that nothing he said was going to stop the Weasley twins’ protestations. It wasn’t fair, of course. But when had Snape ever been fair to a Gryffindor? And anyways, he was sure Potter would pull off some miracle catch again. Maybe this time he snag it with his toes.

When Arcturus returned to his dormitory after his classes that day, he was surprised to see an unfamiliar owl perched on the ledge outside the window, an envelope tied to its leg. He let the poor bird in and it immediately took up a spot near the heater, rustling its wings as it got comfortable. The letter was addressed to Arcturus, and it was in Tonks’ handwriting.

“ _Arcturus,_

_“I hope you are doing well in school, and that you aren’t getting into too much trouble, though knowing Fred and George I’m sure they’re keeping you in detention. I know it’s been some time since I’ve written, but Auror training is proving particularly challenging. Moody is tough and you know me, I’m not the most graceful on my feet. I’ve passed most of my assessments so far, except for Stealth and Tracking. If I’m honest with you, I’m not sure I’ll be able to do it. If I fail, then all of this will be for nothing. I’ll be dropped from the training program. Maybe I’ll be able to get a desk job, but certainly not as an Auror._

_“But apologies for boring you with my problems. I know you were disappointed in not spending Christmas with my family and my mum does feel awful about it. So we’d like to know if you were interested in traveling to Europe with us this summer. It would be for a few weeks in the middle of summer when the training program takes a break. Please say yes. We all miss you very much._

_Yours, Tonks.”_

Arcturus frowned at the contents of the letter. He hadn’t received any communications from Tonks since Christmas, but he knew she was busy in her Auror training program. Arcturus didn’t know too much about it, but he did know that it was a grueling, three-year program that was designed to test even the smartest witches and wizards. Tonks was brilliant, so it was concerning to him that she seemed so worried. Of course she was often tripping over air, so it was not surprising that a course of study called “Stealth” was difficult for her, but he didn’t doubt that she’d overcome it.

As to her request, to go on holiday with her and her family that summer, Arcuturs’s mind was already racing with the possibilities. He hadn’t left the UK since he’d arrived to live with his aunt and uncle, and while Tonks hadn’t been specific about where they were going, perhaps they’d visit Romania and Arcturus could see some of his old friends? It was a long way off, being only February, but he was glad Tonks had brought it up now because it was going to take a lot of cajoling and persuading to get the Squibs to agree to something like this. They didn’t like the Tonks family, Aunt Andromeda being disowned as she was, and Uncle Ted being a Muggle-born. But if he started now, maybe he could get a begrudging agreement out of them by the time term was over.

But first, he had something important to do. He pulled out parchment and loaded up his quill.

“ _Tonks,_

_“It is good to hear from you. I am well enough. Term has started again, and you might be happy to hear that I have not had a detention in two whole weeks. Thank you for inviting me on holiday with your family. I will being my assault on the Squibs promptly._

_“As to your other concerns, I will tell you stop being an idiot. You are one of the smartest, toughest witches I know and if those Aurors don’t realize that then they’re a bunch of blind old codgers and who wants to work with them anyways? But you will because you’re that good. Just watch your feet every so often, and remember, nobody is better than you at Transfiguration. So, if they want to fail you, just turn them into a toad or something. If you need my help, I will happily send them some of Fred and George’s toffee that they gave me for Christmas. The stuff your Sneakoscope won’t stop warning me about. I’m just a Floo call away._

_“You’ll be an amazing Auror and I only ask that you go easy on your old pal Arcturus when you’re dragging me in for dropping stink bombs in the Ministry toilets._

_“Yours, Arcturus.”_

He sent the letter off right away, hoping that it at least brought a smile to his cousin’s face when she read it. He had no doubt that she’d be an auror in two years when she finished the training program. In the meantime, he’d be there to keep her spirits up, and hopefully create some fun memories that summer.

His next letter was off to the Squibs. It was short and to the point, and would undoubtedly make his uncle angry.

“ _Uncle Marius, I’m going on holiday to Europe with the Tonks this summer. Don’t sell my stuff. Arcturus.”_

He’d send that note off with Striga in the morning. It was too cold and wet to climb to the Owlery that night.

The day of the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff Quidditch match dawned brisk, but at least the rain that had been the prominent condition since term resumed had finally let up. Arcturus sat with Lee, who at least managed to keep his grumbling about Snape being the referee to himself that morning. McGonagall was on Lee’s other side, as usual, and this time the Headmaster himself was in attendance a few rows up. McGonagall didn’t look particularly thrilled as Snape took the pitch, and Arcturus swore she shot the Potions professor one of her warning glares as he examined the pitch.

“This is going to be shite,” Lee muttered to Arcturus.

“But at least it’ll be entertaining to see was McGonagall does to Snape if he tries to cheat us.”

Of course, not a minute into the game there was already a Gryffindor penalty. George tried to hit a bludger at Snape. Arcturus howled with laughter as the surly Potions professor had to execute a rather awkward dive to avoid getting his clock cleaned.

“And a penalty against Gryffindor for that illegal bludger from George Weasley. Looked a little too close to call to me.”

For once, McGonagall said nothing about Lee’s commentary, entirely focused as she was on the match. The chasers were keeping the quaffle busy, but nobody really seemed to get a shot off and Fred and George were doing their best to keep Snape busy, without looking like they were keeping Snape busy.

“And another penalty against Gryffindor, this time against Angelina Johnson for cobbing? Come now, she barely touched him! But wait, Potter’s in a dive! Has he seen the Snitch?”

Potter was indeed in a steep dive heading almost straight for the ground. Arcturus looked head, trying to catch a glimpse of gold. The Hufflepuff seeker was out of position on the other side of the pitch. The only one in Potter’s way was Snape, who turned just as Potter whizzed by him, causing him to veer away. Potter pulled out of his dive merely feet from the turf, his arm raised triumphantly and the little, winged ball clutched in his fist.

“Potter’s got the Snitch!” Lee bellowed. “Potter’s got the Snitch! Gryffindor wins! An amazing display of athleticism and skill by Gryffindor’s youngest Seeker, and possibly a new school record for the earliest Snitch catch in a match! Gryffindor! Gryffindor!” The stands took up the cheer as Gryffindors poured out onto the pitch to congratulate their team. It was historic! Gryffindor had not only routed Hufflepuff, but they’d taken the lead in the House Championship, after seven years of losing to Slytherin. Arcturus grinned in the direction of the snakes, who were slinking off back to their dungeons, grimaces all around.

That night, all of Gryffindor celebrated in the common room until well into the early morning. Butterbeer flowed and the house elves outdid themselves with all the snacks and sweets the Weasleys, Lee, and Arcturus could carry. The Gryffindor Quidditch team was at the center of the action and Wood in particular seemed exceptionally emotional, though that might’ve been because Fred and George spiked his butterbeer with a little something extra they’d been cooking up. They wouldn’t tell Arcturus what it was, just saying it was “proprietary information”.

When Arcturus returned again to his dormitory, Striga had returned with a response from Uncle Marius. Arcturus wasn’t particularly inclined to read the letter, as he had no desire to kill his good mood, but he opened it anyways. It was just a slip of parchment, incredibly short, but Arcturus found himself re-reading the response three times before he understood.

“ _Very well, Uncle Marius.”_


	18. Nighttime Activities

Chapter 18: Nighttime Activities

Schoolwork picked up as Easter break approached and all the professor began talking about the final exams that were coming up at the end of the term. Arcturus wasn’t particularly worried. He was actually doing rather well this year. He hadn’t had so many detentions with Snape this year and he suspected it had to do with Potter. It seemed Snape hated Potter, possibly more than he hated Arcturus. While it was impossible to truly say, what it did mean was that Snape had his hate directed at another and therefore seemed to be too busy hating Potter to give Arcturus endless detentions. Well, at least Potter was good for something!

Arcturus had written to Tonks and his Aunt Andromeda and Uncle Ted immediately upon receiving Uncle Marius’s agreement and they were thrilled to hear that he’d be joining them on their trip. They’d be stopping in France, Spain, Portugal, and rounding their trip up in Italy. Arcturus was a little disappointed that they wouldn’t be going to Romanian, but he hid his disappointment and instead expressed his enthusiasm for the trip. And in truth, he was excited. He’d never been to some of the places they were talking about, and at the very least, it got him away from the Squibs for three whole weeks out of the summer. He wrote a letter to Remus, telling him all about it too. Remus expressed his own appropriate enthusiasm and asked Arcturus to tell him all about his travels and take lots of pictures along the way.

“ _And don’t be afraid to learn something too. Europe is brimming with magical history,_ ” he’d written. Arcturus snorted at the thought of going to learn anything. He was going to have fun!

Yes, things were going rather well all around. Gryffindor was in the lead for the House Cup, the weather was turning nicer causing Arcturus and his friends to spend more and more time outside again, and the promise of a great summer beckoned. The growling behind the third floor corridor door was almost forgotten. But then things come crashing down thanks to three stupid first-year Gryffindors.

It was all over the school Monday morning at breakfast when they all woke to find that Gryffindor had fallen to fourth place in the House Cup competition, having lost 150 points overnight. Arcturus and the others looked at the hourglass in dismay, almost all the rubies completely gone. Their hard-earned house points, gone in one night. There had to be some sort of mistake. Maybe the hourglass had misunderstood a professor, or perhaps someone had Confunded the blasted thing. Surely the Slytherins had been behind it! Then the rumors started to fly.

It was Potter, Granger, and Longbottom’s fault. They’d been caught out of bed by Filch in the middle of the night, roaming school grounds. He’d taken them straight to Professor McGonagall who’d taken away 50 points from each of them. The rumors varied after that. There was one where Potter, Granger, and Longbottom had been sneaking around the Forbidden Forest, trying to catch a unicorn. There was another where they’d had a duel at midnight with the Slytherins, and a third about them having to fight off a dragon who’d tried to nest in the Astronomy Tower. One rumor was more ridiculous than the rest, and in the end of the day it didn’t regain Gryffindor their missing points. They were in last place, and it was all thanks to three first-years who were too stupid not to get caught.

The curious side-effect of it all was that Potter, also practically overnight, went from most famous student in all of Hogwarts, to the most hated. Gryffindors of course shunned him, but also Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Apparently, they had been looking forward to a Slytherin thrashing as well, and with Gryffindor now at the bottom of the rankings and nobody else in reaching distance of Slytherin, it seemed those hopes were dashed.

Arcturus personally didn’t care that much about it. Sure, he’d wanted to win the House Cup for Gryffindor, but it wasn’t as if winning the House Cup guaranteed straight Outstandings on all their exams or anything like that. It was just a silly competition, and he thought that his housemates were taking it all rather too seriously. But, it was entertaining seeing Potter being ignored by the entire school.

For Arcturus, he was working on something bigger. Fred, George, and Lee had long ago abandoned interest in the third floor corridor, but Arcturus couldn’t get it out of his head. He’d exhausted everything he’d figured out up to that point, which wasn’t much at all. He knew the door was locked, but a simple unlocking charm would handle it. Whatever was behind the door was some sort of beast, but Arcturus figured if he was quiet and his wand was at the ready, he could hold his own long enough to get out of there if he needed. But there was one more thing that he’d require.

“I need to borrow the Map,” Arcturus told Fred and George one afternoon the week before exams. The term was almost over, so it would be now or never to find out what was in the corridor. He had a suspicion that they might move it over the summer, and then Arcturus’s curiosity would never be sated.

Fred and George were astonished, to say the least. Ever since they’d figured out how to use the Marauder’s Map last year, and Arcturus had insisted they destroy it rather than use it, they hadn’t talked about or used the Map in his presence. Sure, it was the secret to Fred and George’s success, and Arcturus had certainly benefited from the information they’d gleaned off the Map, but he’d never asked to use it, until now.

“Have something big planned?” George asked.

“No, but I need to go out tonight, and I don’t want to cost Gryffindor any more points.”

Fred and George grinned at each other. “Does Archie have a sweetheart? Going to take a girl up to the Astronomy Tower?”

Arcturus rolled his eyes. “Yes, it’s Snape. Me and the dungeon bat have been madly in love all year, but it’s a big secret.”

“Yuck! Don’t even joke about that!” Fred complained. “Yeah, you can use it. Come get it tonight after supper.”

“And don’t ever mention being in love with Snape ever again,” George added.

That night, they gathered in the twins’ dormitory, the door closed. Fred dug through his trunk, pulling the parchment out from under his Weasley sweater. It looked exactly the same as the last time Arcturus had seen it. Nothing seemed to affect the old parchment, but Fred still unfolded it gently and set it on the bed.

“You remember how to use it?”

Arcturus nodded, staring at the parchment. His throat felt thick as he placed the tip of his wand on the Map and said, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

Ink flowed from the tip of his wand, coalescing into the words that had caused him a lot of conflict before. His eyes travelled over the words, “Moony” and “Padfoot”, and he found himself wondering about the boys who bore those names when they created the Map. He tried to reconcile the genius that was behind something of this magnitude with the quiet, friendliness of Remus Lupin, who always wore clothing that needed to be replaced and always looked like he need another meal or three. Surely if Remus could do magic like _this,_ he wouldn’t be practically homeless?

The castle was still rather busy as Arcturus skimmed the map. It wasn’t yet curfew, so students were out in the library and around the corridors. There was a couple up in the Astronomy Tower, though Professor Sinistra was not far so there were likely to be broken up fairly soon. He’d have to wait until that evening, when only the nighttime patrols were out. Then he could avoid them with the help of the Map.

“When you’re done with it, just tap the parchment and say ‘Mischief Managed’. Otherwise, anyone will be able to read it if they find it.”

“Mischief Managed,” Arcturus said, taping the Map. The lines sunk back into the parchment and it was blank again, innocuous.

“We’re trusting you not to get this confiscated again,” Fred said. “You’re sure you don’t need any assistance?”

“I’ll be perfectly fine, thanks to this.” Arcturus tucked the Map in his robes pocket. It seemed warm against his leg, but that wasn’t right. It was just old parchment right now.

That evening, Arcturus waited behind the curtains of his four poster bed, watching footsteps move around the map. He watched the common room slowly empty out, except for Ron Weasley, who sat in a chair by the fire. He watched the prefects head out on their patrol, and then he watched them split up. He watched the Ravenclaw prefect Robert Hilliard break off and meet up with the Hufflepuff prefect Gabriel Truman. The two of them wandered a bit before slipping into an unused classroom and standing very close to each other for quite a while.

“That’s interesting,” Arcturus muttered to himself. Well at least two of the four prefects out on patrol seemed occupied. He saw Snape wandering around too, but he was far on the other side of the castle. His interest was only perked when he noticed Potter, Granger, and Longbottom returning from the Forbidden Forest. It was very late, and it seemed those idiots were up to their old stupidity again. Well, Arcturus was curious why. He cleared the Map and listened for a few moments, but all he could hear was the deep breathing of his sleeping roommates, and McLaggen’s snoring. Git.

Arcturus took a few deep breaths as he prepared to cast a disillusionment charm on himself. He’d been working on this for a little while, and had managed to get it so that at least if he was still, nobody could see him. But it took a try or two. Arcturus focused as he twirled his wand over his head, like he was wrapping something around himself. It took a couple tries, but eventually the familiar cold sensation flowed over his skin and when he looked down, his robes and hands matched the quilt on his bed. He slipped down to the common room, pausing just in the shadow of the door. Ron Weasley was snoring in the chair, but a few moments later the portrait door opened and Potter, Granger, and Longbottom returned. Longbottom went straight up, passing Arcturus without even a glance in his direction. The charm was working perfectly.

Potter shook Weasley awake, who shouted something about a Quidditch foul before he realized where he was. Potter looked particularly agitated, pacing back and forth. Arcturus strained to hear them from across the room.

“Snape wants the Stone for Voldemort…and Voldemort’s waiting in the forest…and all this time we thought Snape just wanted to get rich…”

Arcturus didn’t know what he’d been expecting to hear, but it certainly wasn’t what had come out of Potter’s mouth. He cringed at the use of the Dark Lord’s name. Potter obviously had a pair on him, to use it so freely. He continued to babble on about someone named Firenze, Bane, the Dark Lord, and Snape. It didn’t make any sense. Something about a stone? What stone? Arcturus just couldn’t understand what he was listening to, and after a while Potter settled in the chair and it seemed the three of them would be staying in the common room for the long haul. Arcturus’s plans were shot. Even if they managed to not see him with the disillusionment charm, they’d certainly notice the portrait door opening. Stupid Potter and his stupid friends!

Arcturus returned to his bed, but he couldn’t help but wonder over what he’d heard. The Dark Lord was supposed to be dead, and yet Potter talked about him like he was hanging out in the Forbidden Forest. And Snape, where did Snape fit into all of this? And what Stone were they talking about? His mind raced around and around in circles, preventing him from sleeping. Instead he pulled out the Map and watched the footprints as people moved around the castle. Hilliard and Truman finally broke it up and returned to their respective dormitories. Snape wandered around still, but curiously, he paused at the third floor. It was the locked door and the out-of-bounds corridor. Snape lingered just outside the door for a while, almost an hour. Arcturus watched him intently. Would he go through? Was the third floor corridor tied into what Potter was saying, about Snape and a stone?

But Snape eventually moved on, returning to his dungeon.


	19. Naturally, the Whole School Knows

Chapter 19: Naturally, the Whole School Knows

“And how was your midnight tryst, Archie boy?” George asked him the next morning at lunch. Arcturus had completely skipped breakfast, choosing instead to take his free period and sleep, since he hadn’t the night before. He was still exhausted and yawned widely. Uncle Marius would’ve scolded him for not covering his mouth.

Fred took that as his response, nudging him in the ribs and grinning. “Archie, you sly dog.”

“I didn’t go,” he told them. “Potter and his friends were in the common room all night. I waited to see if they’d go to bed, but they didn’t until after sunrise.”

“Tough luck,” George said. “You can keep the Map for now. Give it back when you’re finished.”

“Thanks,” Arcturus replied, trying to stifle another yawn. But it seemed that he wouldn’t get a chance to the following night. He tried to stay up, but fell asleep waiting for a group of seventh years to clear out of the common room. They were studying for their NEWTs. The whole school was slowly descending into a panic as exams loomed closer. The library was packed, so Arcturus didn’t get a chance to try to figure out what stone Potter and his friends had been talking about. He used the Map every night and each night he saw Snape come to the third floor corridor. But he also saw others too. Potter and his friends made a visit there a few times a day, it seemed. And even Quirrell, of all people, made a late-night visit. What in Merlin’s name was going on around here?

Then exams started, and Arcturus forgot about it for a few days. Second year exams weren’t NEWTs, but they were certainly more difficult than last year’s had been. Arcturus found himself studying more than he watched the Map, and soon plans of going past the third floor door were out of his mind. It was exams all day, and then studying all night before he fell asleep, usually on a book or his notes.

By the end of his exams, Arcturus is thoroughly exhausted and happy to put it all behind him.

“We should celebrate tonight,” Fred and George announced after their last exam was finally over.

“I’m too tired,” Lee complained. “And I don’t want to drag 100 pumpkin pasties up to the Tower.”

“Same,” Arcturus agreed. His Transfiguration exam had not gone at all as he’d hoped. “We can celebrate after you guys beat Ravenclaw this weekend. Let me sleep tonight.”

“Aw, you’re no fun!”

They did manage to get Lee and Arcturus to play a few rounds of Wizard’s chess, but when Lee sent his queen into an obvious trap, just to end the game sooner, they gave up and called it a night. They didn’t see Potter and his friends loitering in the common room, watching everyone as they went off to bed.

The next morning, the whole school somehow knew that Potter was in the Hospital Wing. Wood was cursing up a storm at the breakfast table. With the game this Friday and their star Seeker in the hospital, Gryffindor’s chances of winning were slim to none now. Not that it would’ve made much of a difference in House Cup standings. They were hopelessly behind thanks to Potter and his gang, and now it seemed they were up to more mischief.

“They went to the third floor corridor,” said Jonathan Spratt, a fourth year. “I heard that they fought a Cerberus, and Potter dueled Quirrell for the Sorcerer’s Stone.”

The Sorcerer’s Stone? Arcturus’s mind whirled. That was the stone that Potter and his friends had been talking about before exams. The one that Snape was after for the Dark Lord. But did that mean?

“What about Snape?”

Spratt looked confused. “What about Snape? I told you, he dueled Quirrell. He’s gone, completely vanished. Nobody knows where he is. Potter is an incredibly strong wizard to take him on. I mean, Quirrell might’ve been a nutter, but he was still the Dark Arts professor.”

Spratt moved away to talk to another group, spreading the news.

“Do you think Potter really fought Quirrell?” Lee asked.

They all looked up at the staff table and sure enough, Quirrell was not there. When Potter’s friends Weasley and Granger walked in, the entire Great Hall went silent. Everyone watched as the two sat down at the Gryffindor table, and then the hall erupted with chatter again.

“I’m going to go find out,” Fred declared, and he and George went down to sit with their brother. Arcturus and Lee watched them talk for some time until the twins shook their heads, thumped the two on the back, and returned to Arcturus and Lee.

“It’s true. Well, some of it. There’s more. They faced Devil’s Snare, and flying keys, a giant game of Wizard’s chess, and poison. But they didn’t know what happened to Harry. They were separated. He’s still unconscious in the Hospital Wing.”

Granger and Ron ate quickly and left, likely to go back up to the Hospital Wing to be with Potter.

“I heard them talking about it,” Arcturus said. “That night I wanted to sneak out but couldn’t. They stayed up all night talking about Snape and a stone, and the Dark Lord. They thought Snape wanted to get the Stone for the Dark Lord. I didn’t understand at the time, but it all makes sense now.”

“But it wasn’t Snape,” Lee said, looking up where the Potions master was pointedly ignoring the clamor and instead reading intently from the Daily Prophet. “It was Quirrell. They had it wrong.”

“Snape was involved in some way,” Arcturus said firmly. “Every night for a week he’s been going to the third floor and standing outside the door. I don’t know what he was doing, but maybe he and Quirrell were in cahoots or something. Quirrell was the one who got caught.”

If Arcturus’s murderer father could be working for the Dark Lord and kill his own friends, then Arcturus had no problem believing the horrible, greasy bat of the dungeons could be working for him too. Clearly Dumbledore didn’t know what was really going on in the castle, otherwise he’d have known about Quirrell, and three first year Gryffindors wouldn’t have been necessary to stop the Dark Lord from getting the Sorcerer’s Stone.

The twins and Lee looked up at Snape, suspicion blooming on their faces.

“What can we do about it?” George asked softly.

“We watch him,” Arcturus said, patting the pocket of his robe where the Marauder’s Map still rested. He’d taken to carrying it on his person, not wanting some sneak to find it in his dormitory. “We have the Map, he can’t hide from us. He’ll probably lay low for now. I would too, if I were him. But eventually he’s going to try something else again. And we need to be ready for it.”

Lee grinned. “We’re the next generation of Marauders,” he said. “Like Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs. I call dibs on Prongs.”

“No way!” Fred protested. “If anything, you’re Wormtail. I’m Prongs, and George is Padfoot, since he’s so sneaky.”

“And Arcturus is Moony, since he’s already named after a star. Only makes sense,” George added.

Moony was Remus. Arcturus liked Remus. He didn’t want to be a “next generation of Marauders” or anything like that. But part of him felt warm inside, to think that he might be walking in Remus’s footsteps, even in a little way. But he’d never admit it.

“You guys are sentimental turds,” he declared, launching some eggs at the twins. Only McGonagall’s exceptionally loud cough and a pointed look in their direction kept it from devolving into an all-out food fight.

Gryffindor of course had to forfeit the Ravenclaw match with Potter still in the hospital. By the end of term feast, the rumors were getting out of hand, but everyone knew that Potter dueled Quirrell and defeated him, which is why they didn’t have a final exam grade for DADA, even though they’d all taken the exam.

“What a waste of time!” Lee complained.

Potter made a grand entrance at the end of term feast, apparently back from the dead or whatever had been wrong with him for the last three days. Arcturus hardly cared. Term was essentially over. He and his friends had been spending their days lounging around by the Black Lake, tossing rocks at the Giant Squid, who liked to toss them right back, albeit much harder than they’d originally been thrown. They took turns looking at the Map, but as was predicted, Snape didn’t appear to do anything suspicious, beyond just being a miserable old git. Arcturus’s attention quickly turned towards his summer plans.

He and the Tonks’s would be taking a circle tour of Europe, starting in Paris, travelling by broomstick through the countryside to Barcelona and Lisbon, before taking a portkey to Rome and then wrapping their trip up in Venice. It promised to be an exciting trip, but Arcturus was most excited about going with Tonks to purchase a new broom for it. His old broom was well enough for casual flying, but he needed more of a touring model for this trip. They’d been exchanging ideas for weeks now and Arcturus thought he’d settled on the Comet 260 Touring model. It was a smooth ride with a bolstered cushioning charm for added comfort and came with a pair of patented extendable saddlebags, capable of carrying an entire house-worth of stuff. And Comet was rolling out a new type of disillusionment bolster, allowing the rider to stay hidden from Muggles without major magical output. It was perfect for the trip. They were going to Diagon Alley the weekend after Arcturus got home.

When results came out, Arcturus was surprised to see he got very respectable Exceeds Expectations across the board and even an Outstanding in Charms. Not bad at all. The Squibs might actually be happy with him, which made Arcturus gag for a moment. They had to choose their extra classes for the following year. Arcturus chose Ancient Runes, Care of Magical Creatures, and Muggle Studies, just because he thought it would be an easy O and piss off the Squibs. Now that everything was wrapped up this year at Hogwarts, Arcturus was just ready to board the Hogwarts Express and return to London. He couldn’t wait for the summer and the adventures that were sure to happen.

“Enjoy your trip,” Lee and the twins bid him as they said goodbye on Platform 9 ¾.

“I’ll get you some souvenirs,” Arcturus replied.

“Say hello to the gorgeous Tonks for us,” Fred grinned, winking salaciously.

Arcturus grimaced. “Ew, stop. That’s my cousin.”

“Not _my_ cousin,” Fred grinned. They hugged each other goodbye and then Arcturus went to meet the Squibs. They looked the same as before, except Uncle Marius perhaps had a few extra gray hairs.

“Good afternoon, Arcturus,” he said.

“Don’t get all sappy on me now,” Arcturus replied. Uncle Marius ignored him. He was certainly back.


	20. Family Time

Chapter 20: Family Time

“This trip is going to amazing,” Arcturus declared. He and Tonks were sitting in the Tonks’ living room. Their new Comet 260s were laying in front of them and their broomstick kits were scattered all over the floor, along with trimmed twigs and the contents of Arcturus’s bags. They were preparing their new brooms for the trip, and Arcturus was loading up his new saddlebags. He’d probably brought too much, but it wasn’t like he didn’t have the space with the extendable charms on the saddle bags. There was a partially unfolded tent behind Tonks that Uncle Ted had pulled out of the garage. He’d been working on the charms to make it a little more “homey” for the last week. Arcturus hoped he succeeded, since it was meant for all of them.

Over by his foot was the map they’d carefully drawn their planned route on in red ink. They would be taking a portkey to Paris and starting their trip there. A day in Paris and then they’d mount up and fly to Bordeaux and Marseille. Over the water to Barcelona, and then Valencia. A long day across Spain to Seville, and then to Lisbon. Then they were catching another portkey, this time to Rome. Two days in Rome, because they were told they couldn’t possibly see everything there was to see in one, and then north to Florence, Milan for Aunt Andromeda, and ending in Venice. From there, they’d portkey back to London. There would be some camping, but they were staying in a lot of hotels, per Aunt Andromeda’s insistence.

“You never know who you’ll come across on the side of the road,” she declared.

“But that’s the point, darling!” Uncle Ted insisted.

Arcturus was secretly glad to be staying in some hotels.

When the day arrived, they did a small test run, flying to the Ministry of Magic to catch their portkey. The brooms were fast, but smooth like riding on a cloud. Arcturus had read that in the Middle East, wizards chose to ride magic carpets instead of brooms. He’d be interested to see that. Perhaps next summer they could go there.

The portkey was the worst part. They always made Arcturus a bit nauseous, and they reminded him of that day he’d left Romania and the last of his life with his mother. He pushed those thoughts out of his mind as he looked around at the Parisian branch of the French Ministry of Magic. They stood in an alcove inside a dome of wrought iron and frosted white glass. Beautiful designs of magical creatures and artifacts decorated the dome, a clear homage to France’s magical history. A sign welcomed them to the _Ministère des Affaires Magiques de la France_. Arcturus’s French was very rusty, but he picked up some phrases here and there as they passed through. It was very different from the British Ministry, no less grand and distinctly “French”.

They exited to a quiet square in the 6th _arrondissement_ and checked into a little hotel that Aunt Andromeda was familiar with. It was quaint, but much nicer than some place like the Leaky Cauldron. Arcturus got the impression that Aunt Andromeda had come to Paris frequently as a child, and she showed her familiarity the next day, dragging them to all the museums and shops. Arcturus and Tonks even got to enjoy a little circus show in the _Place Cachée_ wizarding shopping district. It was better than looking at all the boring paintings, though when he wrote his letter to Remus that night he talked about them mostly. He thought Remus would be more interested in the paintings than the circus.

That following morning saw Uncle Ted getting everyone up before dawn and a flurry of a quick breakfast and packing had them up in the sky over Paris as the sun came up, striking the famous Eiffel Tower.

Until that point, Arcturus hadn’t had much opinion of flying. He hadn’t gotten the chance to do much of it, and then there was the time Fred and George had tried to make him go out for the house Quidditch team. But flying over the green fields of France, the cool wind whipping through his hair and the sun shining on his face, Arcturus thought he could get used to this.

Their trip planning had left plenty of time for stops along the way and a leisurely pace, which was good because after a few hours on a broomstick, even with the cushioning charm, Arcturus’s bum was screaming in pain. They landed and walked around a little funny before having lunch in a tiny little wizarding village on their way to Bordeaux.

Ted Tonks, for all his claims to be a normal, “run-of-the-mill” wizard, had a passion for French wine. It was his request to visit the Bordeaux region. He had a list of châteaux they were planning to visit and Aunt Andromeda was supportive, though she told Tonks and Arcturus that they didn’t have to tag along if they didn’t want to. Arcturus wasn’t particularly inclined. Fancy French wines were something snobs like the Malfoys were interested in. Uncle Ted wasn’t like that of course, but it was just an opinion that Arcturus couldn’t shake. He and Tonks took the tent and found a nice place to pitch it down at the edge of a vineyard where there was a little stream. The air smelled softly sweet and the two of them splashed each other in the stream, laughing and enjoying the carefree summer. No school exams, no Auror assessments, Arcturus found himself wishing he could stay here forever as he lay on the grass next to his cousin, letting his clothes dry out in the sun.

“Hey Tonks,” he started.

“You know you don’t have to call me Tonks right? We’re cousins.”

“But you hate your first name. What else am I supposed to call you?”

Tonks shrugged. “You could call me Dora, like mum and dad do. If you wanted.”

“Alright then, Dora, did you ever get in trouble with Snape?”

Tonks snorted. “I don’t think there’s anyone outside of Slytherin House who hasn’t been in trouble with Snape. Why?”

“Well he hates me, but I think it’s more than just because I’m a Gryffindor. And he hates Potter too. Almost more than me!”

“He’s a wanker. He hates everyone, I wouldn’t take it personally.”

“Sometimes it feels personal. He likes to talk about my father, like he knew him personally or something.”

“It’s possible. Maybe they were in Hogwarts at the same time?”

“Well, if they were, he definitely didn’t like him. Maybe I should ask Remus.”

“How is Remus doing? Has he found a good job?”

“He had one the last letter I got. Said it was why he couldn’t come to see me before the trip. I wonder why he can’t keep a job. He’s a good wizard. He taught me plenty of stuff, and he’s even been able to explain some of my summer work when I haven’t understood it.”

“Maybe it’s not his ability. Maybe it’s something else. If there’s one thing I’ve learned since graduating Hogwarts, it’s that adults are complicated…much more than kids.”

There was a story there, Arcturus could tell. Tonks looked pensive as she watched the clouds, Arcturus looked at her pointedly, silently telling her he expected her to share whatever it was.

“My mentor, Moody, he can be really tough. I mean _really_ tough. Much tougher than any of the other mentors. And he barks and growls a lot, like he’s never happy about anything. But…they wanted to kick me out of the program, because I kept failing Stealth and Tracking. And…he persuaded them not to. Even though he’s done nothing but criticize me the entire time, he stood up in front of the board and got them to let me stay. I don’t understand why he did it.”

“Because he knows you’re good,” Arcturus said softly. “So you stumble a few times, that doesn’t mean you can’t be an amazing Auror. He knows that.”

Tonks shook her head. “You don’t hear the things he says to me. He can be downright vicious.”

“He’s making you stronger. But he knows that you can be the best, just like I know. That’s why he stood up for you.”

“You’re not just saying that because I’m your cousin right?”

“No, I’m telling you the truth, because you’re not just my cousin. You’re my friend.”

That even, Tonks and Arcturus had the tent pitched and were even frying up some fish they’d gotten from the local market when Uncle Ted and Aunt Andromeda stumbled into the camp. Well, Uncle Ted stumbled, and Aunt Andromeda dumped him on the nearest couch.

“He didn’t realize he was supposed to spit the samples out, and then he wouldn’t do it!”

“So he’s…drunk?” Arcturus laughed, a great barking laugh from in his gut like he hadn’t in a while. He set off Tonks, who set of Aunt Andromeda. The three of them laughed and laughed until Uncle Ted grumbled, begging for silence for his poor head. And then they laughed some more.


	21. Bloodlines

Chapter 21: Bloodlines

When they made it to Venice, Arcturus found it was bittersweet. On one hand, he was thankful that they wouldn’t be flying by broom again anytime soon. While he’d gotten more used to it since that first day of travel, even the thought of getting back on a broom again made his bum sore and his hands clench. He’d become much more proficient on a broom in the two weeks of their trip, mostly thanks to a squall they’d run into as they crossed from Marseille to Barcelona. That had been an experience that still made Arcturus shudder just thinking about. But he’d do it all again in a heartbeat. The trip had been amazing. They’d seen so much and Arcturus had learned so much more about his family. For example, he learned that Aunt Andromeda couldn’t really cook, and that if she offered it was best to decline. Even with magic, she still managed to burn everything.

“I grew up with house-elves,” she protested. “Do you really think the Blacks thought something like cooking was important for us to know?”

“Yes dear,” Uncle Ted had replied, kissing her on the cheek. “And what about the 19 years since then?”

She’d smacked him playfully and he’d thrown a burnt triangle of toast at her and they’d created quite a mess of breakfast.

Yes, it was those small times that he treasured, almost more than seeing all the museums and monuments and learning about the different Wizarding cultures. That was interesting too, but this part, feeling like he was once more part of a family, this had been everything.

And tomorrow he’d be returning to London, and the Squibs.

“Is everything alright, Arcturus?” Aunt Andromeda asked when he didn’t touch his gelato. Now granted, they’d had a lot of gelato since arriving in Rome a few days ago, but Arcturus had dug in every time, experimenting with flavors and toppings. But now it sat in the cup in front of him, slowly melting into a puddle.

“Just a little sad about going home tomorrow,” he admitted.

“This has been an excellent trip,” Uncle Ted agreed. “I’m sad for it to be over too.”

“Yeah, it’s just…do I have to go back to the Squibs?”

The Tonks’ exchanged meaningful glances.

“Yes, sweetheart, unfortunately you do,” Aunt Andromeda said at last. “I know it’s not where you want to be.”

“They hate me.”

“They don’t hate you.”

“Yes, they do. They hate me and I hate them. I don’t understand why I have to stay with them.”

“They’re your family.”

“So are you! And you actually _like_ me, right?”

“We _love_ you Arcturus,” Uncle Ted said firmly. “But the business of guardianship isn’t something that is up to us.”

“Why? Why can’t I live with you? You like me much more than they do. They’d probably say ‘yes’ in a heartbeat if you told them you wanted to take me off their hands.”

Aunt Andromeda sighed in that way adults sighed when they were going to talk about something they didn’t expect kids to understand. “Arcturus, there’s more to this than you know. Believe me, we tried. Ted and I looked into it last year. It’s, difficult to explain.”

Arcturus was shocked. He hadn’t known that they’d done that, tried to get him away from the Squibs.

“You did?”

“Of course we did,” Uncle Ted declared.

“But, your mother’s will was unclear,” Aunt Andromeda explained. “She said that you should live with your father, and barring him, your godfather, who was James Potter. Since neither were viable options at the time of her death, the decision as to where you would live fell to the Head of the House of Black, which, at the time, was your great-grandfather Arcturus.”

“So we get him to agree!”

She shook her head. “He passed away last year, which left the headship to my father, Cygnus. I thought I could persuade him, but before I could, he too passed away, earlier this year.”

“So, who is the Head now?”

“Your father, Sirius.”

His father, notorious mass-murderer Sirius Black. Why did everything that was bad in Arcturus’s life always seem to come back to his murderer father?

“But—he’s in Azkaban.”

“Yes, and they don’t allow visitors, or letters.”

“So you’re saying I’m stuck with the Squibs, because the one man who could change it, can’t?”

“I’m sorry, Arcturus. We really did try, but the law isn’t with us this time.”

“Right, well I think I’m going to go to bed.”

“Arcturus…”

“No, it’s alright. I know you tried. I’m just tired and all.”

“I’ll come with you,” Tonks offered.

“No, I can walk back alone. The hotel is only a block away.” He left before the others could make any more protestations.

The night hadn’t gone the way he’d thought it would. He’d been so happy. They’d eaten wonderful food and watched an illusion show that had put anything else they’d seen so far to shame. Then they’d gone for gelato and that’s when his mood had soured. To hear that the Tonks had tried to get guardianship of him was more than he’d ever expected. He knew he and Tonks weren’t first cousins or anything like that, but he couldn’t help but think of them as his real family, not the Squibs. To hear that love confirmed made his heart swell. He would’ve loved to live with the Tonks, to be like a little brother to Dora and a son to Ted and Andromeda. He didn’t want to replace his mother, of course, but he longed for that loving home. He longed for a place to go to where he felt like he was _wanted_.

They _did_ want him. They wanted him enough to slough through wills and Ministry guardianship laws, only to find that Arcturus was just unlucky. And his father was a wanker, but he knew that already.

But, maybe there was some hope. He had to find out about Azkaban though. Maybe they didn’t let distant relatives visit or send letters, but surely Arcturus, as Sirius’s son, could send something. Or put in some sort of formal request. There had to be some way. He needed his father to make the Tonks his guardians. They wanted to do it, and his father hadn’t done anything for him his whole life. He owed him this one thing!

When the Tonks returned to the room, Arcturus pretended he was already asleep, but really his mind was spinning, turning over every idea he could think of. He needed to get in touch with his notorious, mass-murderer father, and he was going to figure out how.

“You want to contact Sirius?”

Remus had been shocked when Arcturus made the declaration at their next visit. They were at a coffee shop in Muggle London, only a few blocks from the Squibs’ house. It was a favorite place to go, since the coffee was cheap. Arcturus always made a point to have some Muggle money on hand when he came to these visits and he often arrived early so he could by Remus’s coffee and maybe a scone or something.

“Do you know how?”

“Arcturus, Sirius is in Azkaban Prison. They don’t take visitors.”

“But surely _someone_ goes.”

“The Minister for Magic, perhaps. But you don’t understand. It’s not a good place. It’s in the middle of the North Sea, guarded by hundreds of dementors. Nobody has ever escaped from Azkaban. It’s very likely your father has gone mad by now. Most prisoners do, and he’s been there eleven years.”

“If that’s the case, then the Headship of the House of Black would pass to me, since he’d be unable to carry out his duty.”

Remus looked suspicious now. “Have you been studying Wizard law now?”

He needed to just tell him. It’d been a month since they’d returned from the trip, where Arcturus had learned about the guardianship issue. He was due to go back to Hogwarts in just two weeks, and then he would have to focus on his studies again. He needed to get as much of this done as possible. Now.

“I want to live with the Tonks. But the Squibs were declared my guardians by my great-grandfather Arcturus after my mother died. He’s dead, and Cygnus Black is dead, which means my— _father_ is the Head of the House of Black. The decision of my guardianship lies with him. So I need to contact him, or I need to prove that he’s unable to carry out his duties. Apparently just being in Azkaban is not enough, some sort of amendment by the Purebloods during the last war.”

“But even if the Headship passed to you, decisions would be made by your guardians until your majority. Which are your aunt and uncle.”

“I can handle the Squibs,” Arcturus replied confidently. He was sure that, given the chance, they would get rid of him right away. But they were too proper to do it outside of the law. Since they’d been made his official guardians by the Head of their House, they saw it as their duty. But if he could provide them with an easy way to _remove_ that duty, Arcturus was sure they’d take it in a heartbeat. They didn’t want him in their house.

Remus sighed heavily. “I wish I could give you an answer, but I honestly don’t know. I tried a few years ago, when some of the initial pain had subsided. I wanted to know _why_ , but I was stymied at every turn. When you’re a…someone like me, they aren’t inclined to help you.”

Arcturus drew himself up, nose in the air like he saw Lucius Malfoy do. “But _I_ am Arcturus Sirius Black, great-grandson of Arcturus Black, Order of Merlin, First Class, _scion_ of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, _Toujours Pur_ , et cetera, et cetera ad nauseum.”

Remus chuckled. “You were far too good at that.”

Arcturus shrugged, “You learn some things from the Malfoy snobs. But you see, I might be able to succeed where you couldn’t. I don’t care about that Pureblood nonsense, but some people do. I just need to figure out the right people.”

Remus sat back, fiddling with his mostly empty coffee cup. He looked pensive for a moment. “Have you spoken to Arthur Weasley?”

“Fred and George’s dad? No, why?”

“Mr. Weasley works at the Ministry. He’s not particularly high-up, but he might be able to tell you who you need to speak with.”

“I’ll send a letter to Fred and George. I have to go get my Hogwarts supplies anyway, maybe I can tag along with them. Thanks for the suggestion.”

“Of course.”

“How’s the job going?”

Remus grimaced and Arcturus knew the answer before he even said it.

“But I have a new one lined up,” Remus assured him. “The only problem is that it isn’t nearby. It’s on the continent, in Germany.”

“Oh, well I’m sure Striga will be able to find you. It’ll just take a little longer. When do you leave?”

“Next week. So, this will likely be the last time we see each other face-to-face for a while.”

Arcturus wasn’t exactly thrilled about that, especially since it would’ve been helpful to have Remus to look into things for him once he was at school. Obviously he couldn’t have the Squibs, and he wasn’t sure that the Tonks would be very optimistic. Not to mention, who knows what favors they already had to call in to get to where they had.

“Well, best of luck,” he said.

“Thank you Arcturus, and I hope you have a good term. I’m always an owl away.”


	22. Off to Diagon Alley

Chapter 22: Off to Diagon Alley

Fred and George’s letter had come back overnight, inviting Arcturus to come to Diagon Alley with their family on the 19th of August.

“ _We’ll be travelling from the Burrow by Floo, but since you’re already in London, you can meet us at Gringotts around 9 am.”_

The Squibs took him as far as the Leaky Cauldron at the entrance of Diagon Alley. They had no desire to associate with the Weasley blood-traitors. Arcturus found them inside Gringotts.

“Master Black,” the door-goblin greeted him, touching his finger to the top of his head. Arcturus wasn’t surprised by the treatment; they always received it coming to Gringotts. The Blacks were one of the oldest families with a great deal of wealth invested in Gringotts Bank. Arcturus himself had a modest vault, at least by Black standards, that was set aside for his use in his schooling, but he couldn’t begin to guess what sort of secrets and security some of the family vaults contained. Part of him was curious to find out too. All this research about Headships and such left him wondering more about his family’s background, something that had never really mattered to him before. Granted, it still didn’t really matter, except in how it could suit him.

“Archie boy!” Fred called, waving him over. The Weasleys were all crowded around one of the teller stations. With them stood Potter and the bushy-haired Granger. Arcturus spotted Mr. Weasley too, who was talking to an couple in Muggle clothes at the next teller over. No, they weren’t just wearing Muggle clothes, they were Muggles. Arcturus had heard that Granger was a Muggle-born, but here was the proof.

“Good to see you old chap!” George said, thumping Arcturus on the back. “You look just as pale as usual, didn’t you just get back from Italy?”

“Last month,” Arcturus told him.

“You need to tell us all about the trip. We got your letters of course, but surely there’s much more!”

“I don’t think so, but I’ll tell you whatever you want.”

“Arcturus, good to see you again!” Mrs. Weasley said, finally realizing that they’d gained another in their growing party. “How was your summer, good?”

“Yeah, it was nice. Went on a trip with the Tonks.”

“Wonderful, darling, are you going down to your vault?”

He could top off a bit, but the thought of sitting in one of those rickety carts made his stomach turn. “Um, no, I’m alright.” He had plenty from his last withdrawal, and if he ran out or needed to make a bigger purchase, well the Black name was always good for some credit. The goblins would settle the account later.

Potter and the Weasleys went off to their vaults and Arcturus was left standing awkwardly with Granger.

“These are my parents,” Granger said. “Mum, Dad, this is Arcturus Black. He’s Fred and George’s friend at Hogwarts.”

Mr. Granger offered his hand and Arcturus shook it briefly.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he said, trying not to be too discourteous.

“Are you in Gryffindor too?” Mrs. Granger asked. She looked uncertainly at Hermione, “Did I say it right?”

“Yes, Mum,” Hermione assured her.

“Yes, I am. Gryffindor Pride, and so forth.” He looked curiously at Hermione. Her parents seemed rather…naïve of the wizarding world. He wondered how much their daughter had actually shared with them. If it were him, he probably wouldn’t have told them about the escapade on the third floor last year.

“We’re very proud of our Hermione,” Mr. Granger declared. “First witch in the family! Do you have other wizards in your family?”

“The Blacks are one of the oldest wizarding families in Britain,” he said, before wanting to kick himself. He sounded like a pompous-ass Malfoy. But his statement seemed to awe the Grangers. Easily impressed apparently.

The Weasleys and Potter returned and Arcturus was very grateful. He’d done his best to be polite, but truly it was awkward answering some of the Granger’s questions. Of course they’d wanted to know more about his family, which had led to the admittance that his mother had passed away a few years ago (“Oh we’re so very sorry.”) and that he lived with his aunt and uncle who, though they came from a magical family, had no magic whatsoever (“How curious!”).

Mr. Weasley insisted on taking the Grangers down to the Leaky Cauldron, apparently intent on his own interrogation. Fred and George each wrapped an arm around Arcturus and steered him off, chased by Mrs. Weasley’s reminder to meet at Flourish and Blotts in an hour. Away from the larger group, Arcturus found himself finally able to relax. They hadn’t gone more than a few steps before they ran into Lee.

“Lee, mate! Good to see you, how was your summer?” The four of them back together, they wandered down Diagon Alley, mostly window shopping. Arcturus knew the twins probably didn’t have much in the way of coins and Arcturus personally didn’t really need to many supplies, beyond his new spellbooks.

“So, tell us about your trip!”

“How is the delectable Tonks?” Fred added, “Ow!” Arcturus had elbowed him pretty hard.

“Don’t talk about my cousin like that. It’s gross. And it was good. My arse was sore from all the flying, but I don’t think there would’ve been a better way to do it. You see so much more that way.”

They quizzed him on all the different places he’d stopped, the food he tried, roared over the story of Uncle Ted getting drunk, and when Tonks had fallen clean off her broom into a Muggle hotel’s swimming pool on the way to Lisbon. They wandered, almost like a moth drawn to a flame, into Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop. They would need to restock on some supplies for the new school year. While it was always fun to invent their own pranks, sometimes it just wasn’t practical, and then it helped to have a solid supply of Dr. Filibuster’s Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks and more than a few dung-bombs for special occasions.

“Ginny is starting Hogwarts this year and Mum has been beside herself,” George complained. “Always going on about ‘losing her baby’, as if she hasn’t put 6 sons into school already!”

“And with Harry staying at the Burrow—”

“Potter is staying with you?” Arcturus realized he sounded jealous and tried to play it off with a shrug.

“Oh, but we almost forgot to tell you. So all summer, Ron’s been complaining about how Harry hasn’t been returning any of his letters.”

“Oh, woe is me, my friend hates me!” Fred cried, waving his arms like a Shakespearean damsel on the stage.

“So eventually we got tired of his whining and decided to do something about it. See Dad’s been working on this old Muggle car out in the shed, and he’s managed to get her to _fly_.”

“Doesn’t your dad work for the Ministry though?” Lee asked.

“It’s purely a hobby project, is what he says. But he’s gotten the old girl to fly.”

“Dad said that Harry got a notice about underage magic from the Ministry and we tell Ronniekins to stop complaining and that we should do something about it,” Fred said. “So we snuck out and flew the car all the way to Harry’s aunt and uncle’s house in Surrey. Not a short trip, let me tell you! And when we got there, they had _bars_ on his window! Can you believe it?”

Bars? The Squibs weren’t the nicest people, but they were entirely civil to him at least. Bars were just barbaric! Arcturus found himself actually pitying Potter for just a moment.

“We tore the bars off and just barely escaped with our lives. Harry’s uncle tried to keep him from leaving, but we got away. But Mum was waiting for us when we got back and she made us de-gnome the garden.”

“She seemed more upset that someone could’ve seen us,” added George.

“And Dad just wanted to know how the car flew.”

“Well your summers sound much more interesting than mine,” Lee said. They piled all their purchases on the counter, and Arcturus firmly set his galleons on the counter, shooting the others a glare when they started to protest.

“All this old Pureblood money should be going to a good cause,” he declared. “I’m simply doing my civic duty.”

They stopped and got some sweets from Sugarplum’s and Arcturus let Fred and George buy him some chocolate frogs there. Then they headed to Flourish and Blotts, which was absolutely bursting at the seams. There was a massive crowd at the door.

“Looks like we picked the wrong day to shop,” Arcturus said, pointing to the banner across the store front. It proclaimed “Gilderoy Lockhart will be signing copies of his autobiography Magical Me today”.

“Well Mum will have a fit if we don’t meet her,” Fred muttered.

“I already got my spellbooks,” Lee said. “Did you see all this bloke’s books are on it? Anyways, I have to get back to my parents.”

“Godspeed gentlemen,” Fred declared, before diving into the fray. George and Arcturus followed him and it was truly a madhouse. Arcturus found himself throwing elbows and receiving a few in return. Witches could be brutal when it came to meeting “Witch Weekly’s Most Perfect Hair” or whatever his title was. Arcturus had heard Pansy Parkinson mention him a couple times in passing.

Mrs. Weasley was near the front of the line with the Grangers. Potter and his friends hadn’t arrived yet, but Lockhart sure had. He was seated at a table and flanked by pictures of his smiling face, a fake twinkle flashing on his teeth. He was the definition of a wizard peacock in blue robes, and every so often he’d pause and pose for a photographer, who kept declaring he was from the Daily Prophet. Arcturus had no desire to meet the pompous ass and he was about to slip away when Potter showed up. And then Lockhart spotted Potter.

“It _can’t_ be Harry Potter!” he declared loudly so that everyone in the entire shop could hear him. They all burst into excited whispers as Lockhart dove through the crowd, took Potter by the arm, and dragged him to the front, throwing an arm over his shoulders.

“Ladies and gentlemen, what an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I’ve been sitting on for some time!

“When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography—which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge—” The crowd clapped and fawned over his every word, and Arcturus watched Potter stand there, soaking it all in.

“He had _no idea_ that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, _Magical Me_. He and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!”

“Oh how wonderful!” Mrs. Weasley gushed.

“Oh bollocks,” Fred and George muttered.

“Let’s get out of here,” Arcturus grumbled, turning to elbow people out of the way again. He managed to get ahold of the spellbooks he needed and paid for them as Mr. Weasley started trying to shepherd everyone outside.

“It’s mad in here!” he said over the sighs and giggles of all the witches and, a couple of wizards, in line. They made it out to the front of the shop where Arcturus was brought up short.

“Well, well, Mr. Black,” Lucius Malfoy hissed. He stood with his hand on Draco Malfoy’s shoulder, wearing fancy robes with his nose in the air like he smelled something foul. He looked at Mr. Weasley, who was just behind Arcturus. “The _company_ you keep…”


	23. Punches and Punishments

Chapter 23: Punches and Punishment

Arcturus hadn’t seen Lucius Malfoy since the Christmas ball where he’d brought Aunt Andromeda. Apparently it had been enough to get him taken off the invitation list for any more of the Malfoy parties. Not that Arcturus had really minded at all. He hated those parties, and going to the Christmas ball, seeing Aunt Andromeda play at the “Pureblood society” had been one of the funniest nights he’d ever spent in Malfoy Manor.

Mr. Malfoy glared down his nose at Arcturus, a haughty sneer twisting his lips, as he looked at Mr. Weasley, Mr. and Mrs. Granger, and then back to Arcturus.

“Associating with Muggle and blood-traitors. Your grandfather would’ve been so disappointed.”

“Who cares? If anything, I was most disappointed not to receive an invitation to _cousin_ Draco’s birthday this year. Truly, I am hurt.”

When Arcturus had visited Malfoy Manor, he’d been the heir apparent to the House of Black. They hadn’t treated him well, but they’d treated him civilly, choosing instead to make their comments behind their hands rather than to his face. It seemed, now that Arcturus had proven that he didn’t give a damn about Pureblood society, all manners and civility were out the window.

“Like I’d invite a Gryffindor blood-traitor like you!” Draco spat. “You’re a disgrace to the name of wizard!”

Arcturus’s temper was rising as he stepped right up, inches from Draco’s own face. “I don’t give a _damn_ about what you think, Malfoy!”

“Arcturus, this isn’t the place,” Mr. Weasley said, pulling him back before it could come to blows.

“Keep it up _Black_ , maybe you’ll end up in a cell in Azkaban too, right next to your _dear old dad_!”

It didn’t matter that Mr. Weasley’s hand was still on Arcturus’s arm, or that they were standing in the middle of a bookshop in Diagon Alley. It didn’t matter than Mr. Malfoy stood right behind his son, or that everyone in the vicinity was watching them with shock and awe. And it certainly didn’t matter that Arcturus’s own mother had taught him to use his mind rather than his fists.

He wound up and planted a solid punch, right on Draco’s nose.

He didn’t get off another. Mr. Weasley dragged him back as Mr. Malfoy pulled Draco away and both of them brandished their wands at the other.

“Control that _mongrel,_ Weasley!” Lucius growled. “And I thought your family could sink no lower—”

Suddenly Arcturus was free, because Mr. Weasley had thrown himself at Mr. Malfoy. They crashed into a bookshelf, sending heavy books tumbling all down around them. Arcturus was stunned by the turn of events. Fred, George, and Ron were cheering their father on while Mrs. Weasley was horrified, pleading with him to stop. The bookstore assistant was trying to cut through the fray, but he was being pushed back by the crowd, all trying to get away from the spells and books that were flying everywhere.

Hagrid, of all people, suddenly appeared, wading into the storm. “Break it up, there, gents. Break it up—”

He managed to pull Mr. Weasley off Mr. Malfoy. Arcturus was glad to see that Mr. Malfoy had a shiner and his normally perfect hair and robes were disheveled. In the chaos, their books and Ginny’s things had been knocked all over the place. They gathered everything up, throwing most of it back in Ginny’s cauldron. Draco was crouched in the corner, clutching his nose as blood flowed down his hands and robes. Arcturus felt satisfied at his handiwork, even if his hand smarted a bit.

Mr. Malfoy had picked up Ginny’s Transfiguration book as he was gathering Draco’s own things. He grimaced at the tattered, secondhand book before tossing it into the cauldron with the rest.

“Here, girl—take your book—it’s the best your father can give you.” He wrenched Draco up from the corner and pushed him towards the door, glaring at Arcturus.

“Such a _waste_ ,” he hissed, before he left.

With the Malfoys gone, everyone seemed to deflate. The bookstore assistant insisted on ushering them out the door as quickly as possible, waving his wand to fix the damage that had been done to his wares. He seemed to want to say more, but he looked up at Hagrid and decided better of it. The Grangers looked shaken as they stumbled out onto the street.

“Archie boy, that was _wicked_ ,” Fred told him.

“ _Brawling_ in public… _what_ Gilderoy Lockhart must’ve thought—“Mrs. Weasley lamented.

“He was pleased, Mum,” Fred said. “Didn’t you hear him as we were leaving? He was asking that bloke from the _Daily Prophet_ if he’d be able to work the fight into his report—said it was all publicity—”

“Arcturus, are you okay?” Mr. Weasley asked. His lip was cut and the sleeve of his robes was torn, but he mended that with a quick tap of his wand.

“I’m fine,” Arcturus said. His hand really did hurt, though, and as he glanced down at it, he could see a bruise forming on the swollen knuckles.

“Let’s all head down ter the Leaky Cauldron,” Hagrid suggested. “Could use a drink meself.”

They headed down the street towards the pub and Arcturus found himself walking by Granger and Potter, of all people.

“Black,” Potter said tentatively. Arcturus was surprised that he was even talking to him. He couldn’t remember Potter ever addressing him directly, not that they spent all that much time together. “What did Malfoy mean in there? About your dad?”

At first Arcturus was surprised Potter _didn’t_ know, but then he’d heard that Potter had grown up with his Muggle aunt and uncle and hadn’t even known about magic until last year when he’d first come to Hogwarts. Granger too, looked curious. They were both outsiders to the Wizarding World. He supposed they wouldn’t know.

“My father is Sirius Black,” Arcturus said. He tried to say it matter-of-factly, like it didn’t really mean anything to him. He’d been trying to make it not mean anything to him for years.

“Who’s Sirius Black?” Potter asked, but Granger seemed to recognize the name.

“The _murderer_? The one who killed thirteen people?” she asked.

“Yep, the very one,” he replied, unable to help his bitter tone.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

Arcturus snorted. “It’s not some big secret. _Everybody_ knows. All the Weasleys do, Malfoy does. Not my fault if you didn’t. What does it matter anyway? I never knew the bastard, and I hope he rots in Azkaban.” He hurried to catch up to Fred and George, not interested in being Potter and Granger’s history lesson today.

Fact was, he was annoyed with himself. All Malfoy had to do was mention his father, and he’d gone off in a blinding rage. He didn’t regret punching Draco, that git deserved it. But he didn’t like how he’d known exactly which of Arcturus’s buttons to press. After all these years, he’d tried to make his dad mean nothing to him. He wanted his dad to mean nothing to him. But having to do all that research this summer, spending time with the Tonks, it had brought up thoughts of a family that Arcturus had been pushing away since his mother died. And, if he would be honest with himself, he’d realize that despite it all, his dad still did mean something to him. But he’d never admit that. To do so would allow his murderer father to have far too much power over him.

At the Leaky Cauldron, everyone sat around a big table, eating a subdued supper. The adults nursed pints and Arcturus wouldn’t have minded one himself, maybe. Mrs. Weasley tutted over his swollen knuckles and performed a rudimentary healing charm over them. It didn’t take away all the bruising, but the swelling went down and it eased the pain. He tried to get Mr. Weasley alone to speak to him, but he was still preoccupied with the Grangers. In the end, the Squibs found him first.

“We heard about the fight,” Uncle Marius hissed in his ear. “Let’s go, now.” They didn’t say anything to the Weasleys as they dragged Arcturus off.

When they returned to the Squibs’ house, Uncle Marius paced back and forth as he scolded Arcturus for his “despicable behavior”, going on and on about how he was “raised better” and he displayed “bad breeding”, all the things that were very important to a family like the Blacks, but that Arcturus couldn’t care less about. Really, he was disappointed that he hadn’t accomplished what he wanted to, speaking to Mr. Weasley about cultivating a connection in the Ministry. It was almost as if the day was for naught.

But that wasn’t true. He’d spent time with his friends, and he’d gotten to punch Draco Malfoy in the nose. And he did get what he needed for next term, so the day wasn’t a total loss. And now if he could just get Uncle Marius to shut up.

“Very well, are you finished?” he asked, as Uncle Marius took a breath.

“I am _certainly not_ sir! You are confined to this house the rest of the summer, and no owls either. Striga will remain in the attic coop until you are to leave. And I don’t want you associating with those _Weasleys_ anymore. They are all bad influences, and I blame myself for letting it go on as long as it has.”

“You can’t stop me from spending time with my _friends_ ,” Arcturus retorted, knowing his insistence in calling the Weasleys “friends” would anger his uncle even more.

“You are my ward, and you _will_ mind me so long as you live under my roof! Now go to your room, and I expect not a sound from you tonight.”

Arcturus took the opportunity to escape as quickly as he could. Taking away his owl was a low blow. He wouldn’t be able to send letters to Remus, the Tonks, or the twins, or to try to continue his search for how to get in contact with his father. His uncle was a right bastard and Arcturus hated him.


	24. Welcome Back to Hogwarts

Chapter 24: Welcome Back to Hogwarts

The last two weeks of summer before Arcturus returned to Hogwarts were the worst. He had absolutely nothing to do. Uncle Marius went to work and Aunt Ariadne went out to her garden, which Arcturus wasn’t even allowed to go in, he found out. Confined to the house, he tried to find things to entertain himself and desperately wished the Squibs owned a Muggle television set. But that would probably be too much.

He read over his school books, but wanted to throw the Lockhart books across the room after only a few pages. The dimwit had no idea what he was doing, as was clear by his writings. Arcturus wasn’t looking forward to learning anything in DADA this year.

He wrote a letter to Remus and stashed it away to send when he got to school. He hoped the Weasley twins didn’t think he’d abandoned them after what happened at Diagon Alley, by his lack of letters. None of it was their fault anyways.

When September 1st came around and it was time to go to Platform 9 ¾, Arcturus nearly cried with relief. It was still rather hot, but he hardly cared at the sweat dripping down his back as they made their way to King’s Cross station. Uncle Marius gave him his usual start-of-term warning about behavior, which Arcturus usually ignored, and then he was at last on the Hogwarts Express and free. He looked up and down the compartments for Fred and George, but found only Lee.

“Have you seen the twins yet?” he asked.

“No, don’t think they’re here. Cutting it close though. It’s only a few minutes until 11.”

No sooner had he said it did they spot Fred and George hurrying down the platform in a mad dash. They stepped out to help them throw their trunks on the train and the twins gave their parents quick goodbyes. The train was already moving when they threw themselves down on the bench in the compartment, breathing heavily.

“That was a close one,” George gasped.

“Wake up late or something?” Lee asked.

“Forgot what time the train leaves?” Arcturus added. “Here’s a tip, it’s the same _every year_.”

“Geez, you clean Malfoy’s clock and suddenly you’re Mr. Tough Guy,” Fred replied.

Lee perked up suddenly, “You did _what_ to Malfoy?”

“Oh, that’s right, Lee, you left before then!”

Fred and George regaled Lee with the story of how Arcturus punched Draco Malfoy in Flourish and Blotts, embellishing the story as they often liked to do. They made Arcturus sound like some sort of adventure story hero and it made Arcturus roll his eyes, but laugh all the same. He’d missed his friends.

“So how angry were the Squibs?” Lee asked.

“ _Furious_ ,” Arcturus said. “They confined me to the house for the rest of the summer. I only just got Striga back today.” He reached up and tickled at his barn owl’s feathers through the cage. Striga, for her part, apparently hadn’t forgiven him his neglect yet, for she snapped at his fingers in warning.

“The only girl in my life hates me,” he lamented.

“Well maybe this year we’ll find you a girlfriend,” George said.

“Or a boyfriend,” Fred added.

“Not me,” Arcturus replied. “I’ve got enough to worry about. I have to figure out how to contact my father.”

The twins and Lee were shocked by his declaration, but as he explained his plan to them, they began to at least understand.

“Do you really think that’ll work?” Lee asked.

Arcturus shrugged. “I’ve read enough that, I think so.”

“Well, my dad works in the DMLE. I could ask him, if you want.”

“Really?” Arcturus hadn’t even known that Lee’s father worked for the Ministry of Magic, let alone in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Granted, it was a big department, but Mr. Jordan might be able to help get him what he’d been searching for all summer. He couldn’t believe the answer had been right under his nose.

“Yeah, that would be amazing, Lee!”

“Give me all your notes, and I’ll send him an owl when we get to school.”

With the promise of a potential breakthrough, the rest of Arcturus’s trip to school was lighthearted and fun as he and his friends made plans for the new school year.

When they arrived, they filtered into the Great Hall for the start of term feast, just like they did every year. Only, Fred and George kept looking around and they seemed to become more and more worried as they sat down at the Gryffindor table.

“What’s the matter?” Arcturus asked.

“I don’t see Ron anywhere,” George said. “You Fred?”

“No, there’s Hermione. Oi! Hermione!”

Granger came over, looking as concerned as the twins.

“Have you seen Harry and Ron?” she asked them frantically.

“No, we thought they were with you,” Fred replied.

“I couldn’t find them on the train anywhere.”

“They came to King’s Cross with us,” George said, “but we were so late, I didn’t see them get on the train.”

“They’re not here anywhere, I have to tell Professor McGonagall.” She went to leave, but the new first-years were already being escorted into the hall by McGonagall, looking small and nervous. Arcturus spotted Ginny Weasley in the group, looking paler than usual. She made eye contact with them and nodded, but ended up bumping into the boy in front of her. The Sorting began and there was nothing any of them could do except wait for it to end. Ginny got Sorted into Gryffindor with the rest of her family and they cheered loudly for her, welcoming her to the house table. When the Sorting ended, Hermione prepared to get up to speak to McGonagall, but the Headmaster suddenly rose.

“Welcome. Please, enjoy the feast!”

The table filled with food and all the students dug in excitedly. Dumbledore didn’t sit back down, however. Instead, he and McGonagall stood and left out a side door by the teacher’s table. It was most peculiar behavior and Granger looked dismayed.

“They probably know they’re missing,” Arcturus told her. “That’s probably why they left.”

Granger nodded. “Yes, you’re probably right.” But she didn’t really touch her food the rest of the feast. Dumbledore returned, this time with Snape in tow, to give them the usual start of term notices. Arcturus noted that the third floor corridor was no longer out-of-bounds. So apparently the Stone had been removed. Probably for the best. Dumbledore also introduced Lockhart, who stood beaming and waving from his chair at the teacher’s table. Snape glared at him, sulking in his seat next to Lockhart. It was no secret that Snape wanted the DADA position. Arcturus took a little satisfaction in knowing that, again, Snape didn’t get what he wanted.

They were dismissed and made their way up to Gryffindor Tower with the rest of Gryffindor. Granger peeled off the second she could, heading straight for McGonagall. As they climbed to the seventh floor, they started hearing a rather interesting rumor flying around. It seemed, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley _did_ in fact make it to Hogwarts, but not via the Hogwarts Express like everyone else.

“…and then they crashed it into the Whomping Willow, you know that tree that tries to hit anyone who comes close?” Angelina Johnson told them. “Can you imagine?”

Fred shook his head at the story. “Who knew little Ronniekins had it in him!” 

“They flew dad’s car all the way to Scotland? That’s got to be a record,” said George.

The entirety of Gryffindor was crowded into the common room and the topic of the night was, of course, Harry Potter and his spectacular entrance. They boys in questions hadn’t made an appearance yet, but if Arcturus knew McGonagall (and with how often he’d stood in her office in trouble, he felt that he did) then they were surely getting the tongue-lashing of their lives. Fred and George were telling anyone who’d listen about their family’s flying car, even regaling them with the story of how they’d flown it themselves, that summer to get Harry Potter.

The portrait door opened and Potter and his friends entered and the whole common room burst into applause. Everyone gathered around, thumping him on the back and praising him for his “genius”.

“Brilliant!” Lee exclaimed. “Inspired! What an entrance! Flying a car right into the Whomping Willow, people’ll be talking about that one for years—”

Arcturus could admit that, as entrances go, it was a pretty spectacular one. Of course, what were the odds they flew the car into the one tree on Hogwarts grounds that actually hit back? The common room was still abuzz for hours that night, until Arcturus finally decided he was tired enough to go to bed. Of course, then he had to deal with McLaggen, who was already sawing away in his sleep, the sod. Arcturus thought about smashing a pillow over his face, but settled for drawing his curtains and casting a privacy charm over them. It wasn’t sound proof, but it did muffle the snoring, at least enough for Arcturus to get to sleep.

The next morning was perhaps more epic than the night before. Arcturus was just sending Striga off with the letter to Remus when the Weasley’s bird Errol arrived, crashing down in the jug of milk in front of Granger. Arcturus caught a glimpse of the telltale red envelope attached to the bird’s leg and he grinned at Fred and George.

“This is going to be good,” Fred murmured.

Ron looked pale as he opened the envelope with shaking hands. Mrs. Weasley’s shirl voice broke over the entire Great Hall like a banshee scream.

“—STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY’D EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU, I DON’T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT GONE, WHEN I RECEIVED THE LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN’T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED—”

The entire Great Hall was silent save for Mrs. Weasley’s Howler. If there was one thing Arcturus was grateful for, it was that the Squibs couldn’t write Howlers, no matter what he did.

“—YOUR FATHER’S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, IT’S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE’LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME.”

The end of the Howler brought a stunned silence over the room as it burst into flame. Somebody at the Slytherin table laughed and that broke the spell as everyone started talking about Ron Weasley’s Howler.

“Poor bloke, that was rough,” said Lee.

“I feel upstaged. _We_ never got a Howler that good,” Fred said.

“Do you think Dad’s really facing an inquiry at the Ministry?” George asked.

Nobody replied. Mr. Weasley’s job in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office wasn’t a particularly glamourous or well-paying job, but the Weasleys couldn’t afford for him to lose it.

“I’m sure it’ll be alright,” Lee said finally. They received their course schedules from McGonagall and groaned. Defense Against the Dark Arts was first thing that day.

“Time to see if Lockhart actually knows his stuff,” Lee said, gathering his belongings.

“Of course he doesn’t,” Arcturus snorted.


	25. Dear Mister Minister

Chapter 25: Dear Mister Minister

Lockhart didn’t know his stuff. In fact, Arcturus was pretty sure that the wad of chewing gum under his desk knew more about the Dark Arts than Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, blah, blah, blah. The bloke was a complete idiot. After he’d given them a three page “pop quiz” that was entirely personal questions about himself (who gives a shit if his favorite color is lilac?), Lockhart spent the entire lecture spinning a story about how he’d fought a banshee, which apparently was detailed in his book _Break with a Banshee_. He didn’t tell them anything about the banshee itself, or how to best _avoid_ one, or even how precisely he’d done it.

“What an idiot,” Arcturus muttered. He wanted to toss all the Lockhart books in the nearest bin.

“I was looking forward to actually learning something in this class this year,” said Lee. They split up, Lee going to Arithmancy while Arcturus had Muggle Studies.

Lee had laughed when he’d told him he was taking Muggle Studies to piss off the Squibs, but now he actually had to go and sit through it. The Muggle Studies professor was Charity Burbage. She was new that year as well, though it seemed she knew a good deal more about her subject than Lockhart.

“Some background information about me,” Professor Burbage said, propping herself up against her desk. “I am what most would call a half-blood, my father was a wizard and my mother a Muggle. As such, I have grown up between both worlds and have had the unique perspective of seeing each culture through the lens of the other. This class is designed to teach you about Muggles and how they function so that you may one day go out and be able to sufficiently blend in with their culture. But my goal is that you may come to understand one concept. That Muggles are not so very different from witches and wizards.”

There were a few murmurs in the class, but Burbage seemed to ignore them as she launched straight into her first lecture, beginning with the initial development of _homo sapiens_ , an early Muggle.

Arcturus had signed up for the course as a laugh, but he found himself actually paying attention, strangely enough. He’d been tutored by his mother as a child, learning about wizards and witches, and only knowing enough about Muggles that they could blend in. He appreciated some of their technology, such as the television and cinemas, but he hadn’t really thought much about the _origins_ of their culture. What did it matter?

But according to Burbage, early Muggles were quite good at one thing, making tools.

“This will become a defining factor of their civilizations,” she told them. “Muggles don’t have magic. They only have their minds, and what their minds create, their tools. Electricity, engines, all these things are created by Muggles to do what they can’t without magic, and they are all tools created by their minds.”

A Hufflepuff girl in the back of the class raised her hand. “You mean, they can actually generate materials with their _minds_?”

Arcturus groaned aloud and the girl shot him a glare.

“Um, no, Miss…”

“Selling, Professor.”

“Miss Selling, no, Muggles cannot create matter with their minds. What I mean is that Muggles use their minds to think of creative ways to solve problems. I’ll give you an example. If you are in a room that is dark, how do you light it?”

“A _Lumos_ spell, of course.”

“Right, you use a spell. Muggles use this.” She held up a Muggle torch. It was metal with a wide glass face and Burbage demonstrated how she could press the button and suddenly the face illuminated itself, shining a light on the far wall. Some of the students ooed and awed. Arcturus had used a torch before, so he wasn’t overly impressed. But Burbage went on to explain how the torch worked, much to the fascination of the rest of the class. Selling raised her hand again.

“But, that seems like an awful lot of work!”

“You’re right, it was years before the Muggles invented the modern torch. But it is a perfect example of what I mean, how Muggles have used their creativity to overcome small and large obstacles in their development.”

Arcturus met up with the twins and Lee at lunch and they ribbed him about Muggle Studies.

“Did you learn about rubber ducks?” George asked. “Dad still doesn’t know what they do.”

“Maybe you should take the class and find out,” Arcturus retorted. He’d originally thought that Muggle Studies would be an easy class, one he could sleep through when he was feeling tired. But now, he wasn’t so sure. He might have to drop this class next year if it proved to be too much work.

Soon they fell back into the rhythm of classes followed by weekends lazing about the common room and planning their next prank. They had some great plans coming for Halloween, it was sure to be the stuff of legend. The only problem was that Wood seemed intent on making the Gryffindor Quidditch team practice every waking hour they weren’t in classes.

Fred and George collapsed in the common room, covered in mud and groaning. It was the week before Halloween and the first match against Slytherin was in two weeks.

“Wood is a menace,” George complained. He pulled back the sleeve of his robes, revealing a large, bludger-size welt. “Did you _really_ have to hit it that hard?”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t aiming at you, I swear,” Fred insisted. He glanced over at Arcturus, who was writing his essay for Muggle Studies. “What are you writing there?”

“Essay on why Muggles use Electricity.”

“Electricity, that’s the thing for the toaster?”

“Yes, maybe _you_ should be in Muggle Studies. Would probably be an easy O.”

“No thanks, Archie boy. I don’t think I could take anything else.”

Lee returned to the common room and he made a bee line for where Arcturus and the twins were sitting. “My dad wrote back!”

Arcturus forgot all about his essay as he tossed the parchment aside. They’d sent off a letter to Lee’s dad, as well as what information Arcturus had gathered relating to his guardianship, weeks ago. So far all they’d received was a few short notes that Mr. Jordan was still working on his request, but things were rather busy in the DMLE so it would take some time. But the packet of parchment that Lee held out was certainly not a short note asking for more time. Arcturus took it from Lee and started reading it over. His expression turned from hopeful, to quizzical, to disappointed.

“What does it say?” Lee asked.

“He says that I’ve interpreted the law correctly, that my father is indeed the current Head of the House of Black, and therefore the matter of my guardianship lies with him.”

“But that can’t be all…”

“No, but the rest isn’t very promising. He says that in order to remove him as the Head, I have to be able to prove before the Wizengamot that he is unable to perform his duties. He lists off how you prove that, but it needs to be in front of a full court, and they don’t convene very often. And if I wanted to attempt to make contact with my father, I would have to go through the Minister for Magic.”

“The Minister? Cornelius Fudge?”

Arcturus sighed, tossing the packet on the table. “He says the only people allowed to visit or communicate with Azkaban prisoners are those who have been given expressed permission by the Minister for Magic himself. I need Cornelius Fudge’s permission. The rest of it is just his own research, showing that I was right.” He groaned, sitting back in his armchair. He was just where he’d started, and he’d wasted another month and a half.

“But, then you know what you have to do…” George said.

“Yeah! I just have to wander down to the Ministry, knock on the Minister for Magic’s door and say ‘Pretty please, Mr. Fudge would you let me go see my father?’ Yeah, that’s going to work.”

George reached over and smacked Arcturus upside the head.

“Ow!” he protested. “What was that for you git!”

“For moping around like a whiny old ghost. You’re Arcturus Black, the bloke who punched Draco Malfoy in the nose. You’ve got all sorts of dead relatives that were supposed to be really important, and don’t think I didn’t notice how the goblin at Gringotts practically fell over himself when you walked in the door. Merlin, Arcturus! What’s the point of having a pompous name if you don’t use it!”

Arcturus glared at him, making a show of rubbing his sore head, even though it didn’t hurt that much. “Well, what exactly are you suggesting I do then? Walk into the Ministry?”

“No, McGonagall would never let you leave school to do that. But maybe you can start with an owl?”

“To who? I’m sure if I sent it straight to Fudge it wouldn’t even get through his secretary.”

“Send it back to my dad,” Lee said. “He is good friends with Rufus Scrimgeour. He’s the Head of the Auror Office. He’ll pass something on if my dad says it’s really important.”

“There,” said George. “Now let’s write that letter and get it off. Who knows how long it’ll take to get to Fudge.”

They spent the rest of the evening writing and re-writing Arcturus’s letter, first to Cornelius Fudge, and then they wrote one to Rufus Scrimgeour too. Arcturus was grateful his mother had insisted on penmanship lessons. Normally he scribbled his words quickly, but this time he went slowly, using every swoop and flourish he’d learned when he was first learning to write with a quill. The result looked like something straight from the desk of a Pure-blood lord.

“You know, sometimes you have some real hidden talents, Archie boy,” Fred said, looking over the results of their labors. “But you spelled Azkaban wrong in this one.”

Arcturus re-wrote it again with much grumbling, but finally he’d tucked them all in envelopes and was about to seal them when he cursed suddenly.

“I should’ve thought of it sooner.” He raced up to his dormitory, the twins and Lee hot on his heels. They found him tearing apart his trunk, throwing clothing and other odds and ends every which way until, with his head all the way down in the bottom of his trunk, he exclaimed, “Ah ha!”

He sat up, holding a small seal ring aloft, triumphant.

“I’ve never used this before,” he told them, showing the seal to his friends. It bore three ravens under a gauntleted fist that was clutching a short sword aloft. Beneath it was a script, too small to read properly but Arcturus knew what it said. “Toujours Pur”, Always Pure. Bastards.

“The Squibs gave it to me for my birthday when I first came to live with them. I threw it in my trunk and haven’t touched it since. It even just _looks_ obnoxious, doesn’t it?”

He dripped a bit of red wax from the stationary set he’d gotten two years ago from the Squibs and pressed the ring into the hot wax, sealing the envelopes. He felt…well he felt like a prick, holding those envelopes that were so clearly showing off something as stupid as a family line. But he needed a break. He needed all the help he could get, and it was George’s idea to do this anyways, not his. Still, he found his hand shaking as he stared at the envelopes and the blood red seals affixed to them.

George’s hand reached out and stilled his. “This doesn’t say anything about who you are,” he said quietly, as if he was sensing Arcturus’s thoughts. “It’s just a means to an end, that’s all.”

“Yeah,” Fred agreed, “We still know you’re actually a sarcastic prick. Couple of fancy seals aren’t going to change any of that.”

Arcturus snorted. “Bet your arse they don’t.”

“Don’t get excited about my arse,” Fred retorted. They laughed, the moment broken. It was late, and the weekend. Arcturus would send Striga with the letters first thing on Monday morning. He desperately hoped this would work, otherwise he was at a loss.


	26. The Writing on the Wall

Chapter 26: The Writing on the Wall

“Alright, you have the toffees?” Fred asked.

Lee and Arcturus both held up their bags of multi-colored toffees, ready for deployment. They stood beneath a large painting of a fruit bowl, the entrance to the famed Hogwarts kitchens. There weren’t many who knew that if you tickled the pear, it would giggle before turning into a doorknob and letting you enter.

“I’ll distract the elves, you guys toss them into the bowls. Remember, you have to include Gryffindor too, otherwise they’ll suspect us.”

“I think they’ll suspect us anyways,” Lee commented.

The toffees had been a work in progress, really for some time now. Fred and George had tried to gift some to Arcturus for Christmas last year, but he’d avoided them, thanks to the help of the Sneakoscope that Tonks had given him. These were a bit different though.

Fred reached up and tickled the pear and it squirmed and laughed before becoming the doorknob.

The kitchens beyond were a bustle of activity. There were four long tables, set in the same place as the ones that were in the Great Hall, just above their heads. Already they were being filled with all manner of foods for the Halloween feast. House-elves wearing tea-towel togas bearing the Hogwarts crest scurried about every which way, carrying platters of food that were far bigger than them. There was a general racket that would drown out a soft speaker and the smells that filled the room were already making Arcturus’s mouth water.

The house-elves noticed the four wizards almost immediately and they were greeted by a familiar elf, named Squinty. He bowed his head to them, his beady eyes shining with admiration.

“Young Masters, welcome back. What you be needing this time? Butterbeers? Cauldron cakes?”

“Well since you’ve asked, Squinty, I’ve got a list.” Fred flicked open a parchment of requests that almost went down to the floor, and he began to recite them all in very specific detail, with George making some witty anecdotes, as the house-elves scurried to obey. Arcturus and Lee took the opportunity to slip away, heading towards piles of sweets that were ready for desert. They found some bowls of toffee and other wrapped sweets and, making sure the house-elves were entirely preoccupied with Fred and George, dumped their bags into the bowls, making sure they were distributed evenly, but mostly on the top. They wanted people to _eat_ their special toffees after all!

“And lastly, if you would be so kind, I feel the fire in the Gryffindor common room would give off a much gentler glow if the flames were a smooth tangerine, rather than the normal orange and yellow. You’ll be able to take care of that, won’t you Squinty?”

“Squinty will do his best, Master Fred,” Squinty replied dutifully, though Arcturus could’ve swore he saw the house-elf actually roll his beady little eyes.

“Good man, er elf! That will be all then, thank you Squinty, my dear house-elves of Hogwarts, I bid thee goodnight!”

A few of the elves echoed back Fred’s sentiments and they ushered the boys out the door, but not before ensuring they had a few pumpkin pasties in hand.

“I think that went quite well!” Fred declared as they climbed up to the Great Hall for the feast.

“I don’t think they saw us,” said Arcturus. “But we’ll see.”

The Great Hall was decorated to the nines with live bats swooping around the ceiling and Hagrid had supplied pumpkins that were almost as big as a house! Arcturus didn’t want to think of the mess they’d likely made as they were carved into lanterns. The whole school was abuzz as they took their places and not even the enchanted ceiling’s gloomy clouds could put a damper on the anticipation of what was to be an _excellent_ feast.

“Ron said something about having to go to Nick’s Deathday party,” Fred was saying as they took their seats.

“Sounds rather morbid,” said Lee. Suddenly the tables were filled with all the food they’d just seen down in the kitchens. It was amazing what the house-elves could do and Arcturus piled food on his plate, despite the pumpkin pasties he’d just eaten on the way up. By the time dessert came up, he thought he would have to be rolled back up to Gryffindor tower tonight, he was so full. But the promise of ice cream and chocolate and treacle tart was enough to let him find a bit more space.

Suddenly, there was a commotion across the room as Pansy Parkinson leapt to her feet, screaming at the Slytherin table.

Malfoy’s friend, Goyle looked panicked as his tongue took on a canary yellow shade and seemed to be doing its best to grow feathers!

“Merlin! Look!”

On the other side of the hall, a Ravenclaw girl was laughing as she stretched her green tongue all the way up to her forehead.

Shouts and laughter broke out across the hall as more and more people ate the special toffees and found themselves with rather interesting effects. A Gryffindor boy had a blue tongue that wavered back and forth like a snake, “striking” at his hands as he tried to make it stop. At the Hufflepuff table, two boys were actually _dueling_ with their purple tongues, rather skillfully. The best one was a Ravenclaw boy. His tongue had turned molten gold and had dripped all the way down to the floor and was forming into a neat little puddle.

“I say, George, I didn’t expect so many different reactions,” Fred murmured. He was scribbling everything down on a piece of parchment in his lap, looking with wide-eyed wonderment at their handiwork.

Dumbledore stood to survey the hall, his eyes landing on their group with a slight smile. They did their best to look just as shocked as everyone else, though, and Arcturus was pretty sure they pulled it off.

“Well it seems we have had quite an interesting dessert this year! Most entertaining indeed. But I think we don’t want to have too much excitement. Madam Pomfrey, if you will take the affected students up to the Hospital, the rest of you, off to bed!”

So there had been no dancing skeletons like the rumors had suggested, but Arcturus felt the Halloween feast had been a large success! He was heading up with the other Gryffindors when suddenly traffic stopped.

“What in the world—Oi what’s the hold up!” Arcturus shouted up to the front. Suddenly a hush fell over the crowd and Arcturus and his friends pushed their way forward, hoping that maybe someone else had taken a toffee from the Great Hall and they were just having a reaction in the corridor. But his heart froze as he spotted what everyone else was looking at. There on the wall, written in big, red letters that glistened in the torchlight:

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

And hanging just below it was Filch’s cat, Mrs. Norris. And she looked dead.

Draco Malfoy’s voice suddenly broke out over the silence. “Enemies of the Heir, beware! You’ll be next, Mudbloods!” Arcturus spotted him at the front, grinning and looking entirely self-satisfied. Surely Malfoy of all people didn’t do _this_. Potter, Granger, and Ron were also right under the horrible words, apparently coming from Nick’s Deathday party.

“What’s going on here? What’s going on?” Filch himself pushed through the crowd, growling at the students. When he spotted Mrs. Norris though, he staggered backwards, sheer horror on his face. He was speechless for a moment, and then he screamed, his face red and spittle flying.

“My cat! My cat! What’s happened to Mrs. Norris? _You!_ ” He turned his ire towards Potter. “ _You!_ You’ve murdered my cat! You’ve killed her! I’ll kill you! I’ll—”

“ _Argus!_ ”

Dumbledore had arrived with McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick, and Lockhart. He barely glanced at the words as he swept forward and detached Mrs. Norris from the torch.

“Come with me, Argus,” he said. “You too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger.”

Lockhart, the prat, didn’t waste a moment.

“My office is nearest, Headmaster—just upstairs—please feel free—”

“Thank you, Gilderoy,” Dumbledore said. He departed, followed by Lockhart, McGonagall, and Snape.

“Alright, the rest of you, to your common rooms,” Flitwick urged. Short though he may be, his voice boomed down the corridor and the students began to disperse, skirting around Flitwick as he set a charmed barrier around the scene.

The Gryffindor common room was filled with hushed murmurs. It wasn’t quite the mood that Arcturus and his friends had been hoping for after their prank. Everyone was clearly talking about the writing on the wall, but nobody wanted to speak about it too loudly. They all looked around at each other, wondering, curious.

“You don’t think Malfoy did this, do you?” Lee asked as they sat down in their corner of the common room.

“No,” said Arcturus. “Malfoy would never dirt his hands enough to do something like this. That writing on the wall, that was done in blood. And anyways, I saw him in the hall. He was laughing at Goyle’s canary tongue.”

“Well if not him, then who?” asked George. The obvious answer was one they didn’t really want to consider. Potter and his friends had been the first on the scene, and they _hadn’t_ been in the Great Hall for the feast. But _Potter_? The Boy-Who-Lived? It just didn’t seem likely that he’d do something like that.

Ginny hurried past them, her hands over her face, obviously crying. Fred and George tried to stop her, but she disappeared up the stairs to the girls’ dormitory too quickly, and they’d learned early on that boys couldn’t go up there.

“I don’t think I’ve seen her so upset before,” George murmured, looking after her worriedly.

“We’ll talk to her in the morning,” Fred assured him. “It’s probably better to just go to bed.”

They all murmured their agreement, heading for their own dormitories. The evening had certainly taken a bad turn and it seemed that their epic Halloween prank would be largely forgotten. As Arcturus closed his eyes and tried to sleep, he couldn’t help but see the large, bloody words there on the wall. “The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware.” No, Draco Malfoy certainly wasn’t behind it. But if not him, then who?


	27. Rumors and Rogues

Chapter 27: Rumors and Rogues

Of course, there was nothing anyone wanted to talk about except the bloody writing on the wall and Mrs. Norris’s Petrification. Wild theories abounded and for the first time, probably since it had been placed in the school library, _Hogwarts: A History_ was not only checked out, but had a waiting list.

“A month!” Arcturus repeated incredulously.

“ _Yes_ , Mr. Black,” the school’s librarian, Madam Pince, hissed at him. “Now I’ve told you a hundred times about your tone of voice in the library…”

The lecture had glanced off him, as it always did. Arcturus thought about going to the Marauder’s Map, but he knew it would be futile. If Fred and George hadn’t found the “Chamber of Secrets” on the Map, then what chance did he have?

Arcturus had heard the legend before, one night when he’d been playing Wizard’s Chess with Draco Malfoy. The boy had been very intent on trying to scare them all with the story his father had told him.

“But Slytherin was persecuted by the other Founders for wanting to ensure Hogwarts only took in the _right_ students,” Malfoy declared. “So he built the Chamber of Secrets and hid it from the other founders. Inside the Chamber, he sealed the weapon of his revenge, a way to purge Hogwarts of all the mudbloods. But it can only be opened by the true Heir of Slytherin.”

He’d puffed himself up and Arcturus had snorted.

“Think this is a joke, Black?”

“It’s just a story. And anyways, you’re even stupider than I thought if you think _you’re_ the Heir of Slytherin.”

“I didn’t say I was!”

“Right, you going to make your move or have you surrendered?”

The reason he wanted _Hogwarts: A History_ wasn’t to read the legend, it was to see if he could uncover any clues as to it’s location. Although, surely plenty of people had searched the school over the years. Maybe they _did_ know, and Dumbledore and the professors were just keeping it quiet?

Arcturus found himself wandering back to the scene. Filch had taken to guarding it, being unable to remove the words from the wall. He wasn’t there now, though, his chair sitting empty. Maybe he’d been called off?

The words were without a doubt written in blood, which was absolutely disgusting, in Arcturus’s opinion. The water that had been all over the floor that night was long gone, but then again it wasn’t that unusual for that corridor to flood, with the ghost that liked to flood the girls’ lavatory nearby. Arcturus had, of course, never been in there, but the girls in his year had complained enough about the fact that it always flooded, thanks to a crying ghost they all called Moaning Myrtle.

“Even if you tried to use the loo, who could do their business with her crying and wailing all the time?” Angelina Johnson said. Katie Bell nodded solemnly.

“Admiring your handywork, murderer’s son?”

Arcturus groaned as he turned around to see Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle standing on the other side of the corridor. They had their bookbags with them, obviously having come from a class, and Malfoy smirked at Arcturus in that self-satisfied way, like he was trying to convince everyone he knew more than they did.

“Just trying to see how a stupid wanker like you could have the brains to pull something like this off,” Arcturus retorted.

Draco Malfoy snorted. “I _wish_ it had been my idea. Whoever is behind it has the right idea. Wouldn’t mind shaking his hand.”

“So you admit you don’t know either.”

“I wouldn’t tell _you_ even if I did.”

“Whatever, Malfoy. Guess this proves one thing, though.”

“And what’s that, Black?”

“You’re not the biggest _Snake_ in the school.” He grinned and stuck his tongue out at the Slytherins, hissing.

“Better watch yourself, Black! People will start to think that maybe you’ve decided to follow your father into the _family_ business.” They skulked away, but his words lingered in Arcturus’s mind. He wasn’t the Heir, _obviously_ , but it was clear that the school was looking for a target, and Arcturus did make an easy one with his father’s imprisonment. Of course, anyone who knew him would know it was all utterly ridiculous, but a good majority of the school didn’t know him.

He looked up at the words and decided this probably wasn’t the place he should be standing.

“Arcturus, mate, you wouldn’t believe the rumors that I’ve been hearing,” Lee said as they settled in for the night. “Everyone’s talking about the writing and the Chamber of Secrets. Did you know that Salazar Slytherin—”

“I’ve heard the story before, thanks,” Arcturus said, sighing as he crawled into bed.

“Oh, well then do you know who the Heir could be? My money’s on Snape.”

“Snape’s been here for decades,” Arcturus replied. “If he wanted to open the Chamber of Secrets, he probably would’ve done it before now.”

“I heard a fifth-year Hufflepuff tell her friend that she thought it might be…you.”

Arcturus snorted. “That’s ridiculous. Why?”

“Well, maybe on account of your dad?”

Arcturus rolled over, looking Lee in the eye. “I’m not like my father.”

“I know that mate! I even told her that too, I’m on your side. But, you can’t be surprised by it.”

He wasn’t. But it didn’t mean that part of him wasn’t at least a little angered by it.

“Yeah, well I’ve heard it’s Potter,” he blurted out.

“Harry Potter? The Heir of Slytherin? You’re joking right?”

“He was the first one there.”

“Come on, Arcturus, you’ve met the bloke. And what about what he did last year, protecting the Sorcerer’s Stone from You-Know-Who?”

“Could’ve been a big front. And Potter only just arrived last year, maybe he hadn’t figured out how to open it yet.”

“I know you don’t like him, but you don’t have to go making up _stories_.”

“I’m not! It’s just what I heard, like you heard that bloody Hufflepuff making up stories about me!”

Lee didn’t say anything and the silence grew between them, heavy and awkward. Finally, Lee sighed.

“You’re right, mate, I shouldn’t have talked about it. I just, you know, thought maybe we’d have a laugh over it. I know you’re not behind it all, so it just sounds like a big joke. I’m sorry.”

Arcturus felt guilty then and shook his head. “No, I shouldn’t have gotten upset. You—you know how I can be about my father. It’s just…complicated. And you’re right, it is pretty funny that _anyone_ would think I was the Heir of Slytherin.”

“Exactly! You’re probably the _least_ Slytherin person I know! Even with all those scummy dead Slytherins in your family tree.”

“And proud of it!”

They laughed and the tension was gone.

“You know,” said Arcturus after a moment, “this Heir of Slytherin guy is a real inconsiderate bastard. I mean, we worked for _months_ on those toffees, and then he just _has_ to go and Petrify Filch’s cat on the same night?”

“Absolutely rude of him,” Lee agreed.

“When we find out who he is, I’ll have to give him a stern talking to.”

“Nothing else for it.”

As the first Quidditch game of the year between Gryffindor and Slytherin approached, the students seemed to seize on the chance of putting the whole business with Mrs. Norris behind them. Gossip turned away from the Chamber of Secrets and the mysterious Heir of Slytherin to the fact that Draco Malfoy’s father had purchased the entire Slytherin team brand-new, just on the market Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones.

“They’re like blurs out there!” Fred declared. “But Wood has been training us hard. I think we can take them.” Fred and George were flying on Cleansweep Fives, which Arcturus’s grandfather had probably flown on in his youth. But Arcturus had been out to a few of their practices and the twins were brilliant with their Beater’s bats.

“They can’t outfly a bludger,” Arcturus reminded them. “Just give them hell.”

The day of the game was gloomy with the threat of a thunderstorm in the air. Arcturus wasn’t particularly interested in getting caught in a thunderstorm for the sake of Quidditch, but he hadn’t missed one of Fred and George’s games yet, and he was looking forward to seeing the twins clean Malfoy’s clock with a well-placed bludger.

But as soon as the game started, Arcturus had to admit, Fred hadn’t been wrong. The Slytherin team were like blurs and they appeared to be everywhere, clearly flying circles around the Gryffindors on their far superior brooms. It angered Arcturus to no end and only made him cheer louder every time Fred or George made contact with a bludger. Only, it seemed like they really had their hands full.

And then he noticed how one bludger in particular always seemed to come back, right at Potter. Fred and George found themselves flanking their Seeker, desperately trying to keep the bludger away from him so he didn’t get pulverized. The rain started falling as Wood called for a timeout.

“Did you see that?” Arcturus asked Lee. “That bludger hasn’t gone for anyone except Potter all game.”

“Really? I haven’t noticed. They’re really flying circles around us. The Chasers have been getting clobbered.”

“Watch it when they start again, if you can.”

When the game resumed, Lee had to keep up his commentary on the action, but Arcturus kept his attention on Potter. It seemed Wood had called the twins off, which was a mistake in Arcturus’s opinion, but Potter seemed to be doing well enough outmaneuvering the bludger as it was. Still, he couldn’t _possibly_ have time to look for the Snitch, having to keep that up. Malfoy was laughing his arse off, watching Potter spin and weave, everything he could to keep the bludger off him. Arcturus’s anger rose. He didn’t like Potter, but this wasn’t fair, and he wouldn’t be surprised if Malfoy was behind it all. The prat never could play a fair game when he thought he might lose.

And then Potter’s luck ran out and the bludger slammed into his arm. He pitched sideways and almost lost his seat, his arm hanging uselessly. And the bludger was coming back.

“Come on, Potter,” Arcturus growled under his breath.

Potter managed to get his wits about him pretty quickly and he was off, headed straight at Malfoy. What did he think he was going to do, body check him? That was a stupid move, they weren’t in a race for the Snitch. Unless…

Arcturus saw it the second before Malfoy dived out of Potter’s way, and Potter snatched the Snitch right out of the air where Malfoy had been sitting, jeering at him. Arcturus actually laughed. The Snitch had been right under Malfoy’s nose, and he’d been too busy making fun of Potter to even see it!

Arcturus hurried down to the field to help Fred and George try to wrestle the rogue bludger back into the case. The damned thing was _still_ trying to get at Potter, who was flat on the field and surrounded by students and teachers, all worrying over him.

“The hell with this,” Arcturus muttered as he whipped out his wand, aiming it at the bludger as it evaded George. “ _Reducto!”_

The whole thing burst apart, scattering to dust. Madam Hooch would have to acquire a new bludger, but she probably shouldn’t use that one anyways, since it’d clearly been tampered with.

“Whew, thanks mate!” George said, dusting the remains of the bludger off his robes. “Oh, that doesn’t look good.”

Arcturus turned to see what George was looking at, just in time to watch Lockhart bend Potter’s wrist completely backwards like it was made of rubber.

“That’s disgusting.”


	28. Enemies of the Heir, Beware

Chapter 28: Enemies of the Heir, Beware

The excitement over Gryffindor’s victory was short-lived. By Monday morning, the word was around the whole school. There had been another attack. No words, but it was a student this time, a Gryffindor first-year, Colin Creevey. Arcturus tried to remember if he’d ever met Creevey, and he had vague recollection of an annoying Muggle camera flash, but not directed at him. Creevey was obsessed with Potter.

“Heard they found him with his camera,” George said, “but when they tried to see if he’d gotten a picture of the Heir, it burst into flame!”

“Yeah, well I heard one of the Ravenclaws saying that he had a talisman to protect himself,” said Fred. “Maybe we should get in on the action, make a few galleons?”

“I don’t know, that’s pretty low,” Lee said. “I mean, people are really _scared_. And who wouldn’t be? Creevey was a Muggle-born, Filch is a Squib. They’re clearly targeting a specific group…”

The four friends looked around their group, privately relieved that nobody there was Muggle-born. Lee was the closest, as a half-blood, but his father’s family was a reputable wizarding family for at least the last few generations.

The rumors and suspicion only grew and students took to moving around the school in groups, nobody ever willing to risk going it alone. Creevey had been alone when he was attacked.

Fred and George’s sister, Ginny, was taking it all pretty hard. She apparently knew Creevey from class and more than a few times Arcturus had seen her burst into tears, seemingly unprovoked. Generally she walked around the castle pale and withdrawn. Fred and George had taken to transfiguring themselves and trying to burst out at her from behind suits of armor and whatnot. They tried to enlist Arcturus’s help, but he was certainly not going to cover himself in feathers just to try to cheer up a first-year. And anyways, they stopped with Percy threatened to write Mrs. Weasley.

December blew in with mountains of snow and Arcturus still hadn’t heard anything from the letters he’d sent off to the Ministry.

“If they got them, they’ve been taking their sweet time!” he grumbled.

“Dad said he passed it on,” Lee insisted. “It’s just that they’re all busy. Nothing goes quickly in the Ministry of Magic.”

There was a tap on the common room window and Arcturus looked over to see Tonks’ owl, fighting against the wind and snow. He hurried over and let the poor bird in, accompanied by a gust of snowflakes and cold air. The owl looked exhausted as it presented Arcturus its leg and the letter from Tonks attached. He opened it.

“ _Arcturus,_

_I hope school is going well. I’m sure the snow is starting to pile up there, so please take extra care of Rodger for me. If he needs a few days to recover, that’s alright._

_“I’m writing you because I overheard something curious. I was practicing for an upcoming Stealth and Tracking exercise (trying to take your advice on that and be more confident) when I accidentally overheard Moody speaking to Rufus Scrimgeour, the Head of the Auror Office. He mentioned that’d he’d received a curious request from ‘Sirius Black’s son’, wanting to get in contact with Sirius in Azkaban._

_“Arcturus, I know why you would make such a request, and while I’m certainly not in a position to deny you, I want you to know that, as your cousin and friend, I want to caution you. I understand why you might be doing this, and I’m afraid for you that you might not find what you’re after. Please, be careful, Arcturus. Rufus Scrimgeour is a good Auror, but he can be strict and he doesn’t often see many sides to a situation. I don’t want you finding yourself in something you aren’t prepared for._

_“You know I wouldn’t normally ask something like this, but as your cousin and dare I say, friend, I feel like I must. Please, let this go. I’m sure you’ll ignore me, but think on what I’ve said. I only have your best interests at heart. I don’t want to see you hurt._

_“Yours, Dora.”_

“What does the lovely Tonks have to say?” Lee joked, but he frowned when Arcturus crumpled up the letter, anger flashing in his eyes.

He was furious at Tonks for writing that letter, for asking something like that. She _knew_ how important what he was trying to do was to him, and she wanted him to stop. She wanted him to just keep living with the Squibs. Maybe she didn’t even want him to live with her and her perfect parents. Maybe she felt that her family was perfect as it is, and she didn’t want some murderer’s son coming in and mucking it all up! He chucked the wad into the fireplace, watching the parchment blacken and crumble with a surprising vindictiveness. Well, Tonks could go to hell for all he cared about what she thought! She didn’t know what was best for him; only he knew what was best for him! And he’d been planning to go stay with the Tonks again for Christmas, but those plans had burned up in the fireplace with Tonks’s letter.

He marched over to the holidays sign-up sheet and scrawled his name, accidentally putting a hole in it with his quill where he’d jabbed too hard. Then he stormed off to bed. Lee looked at the sign-up sheet, and then after his friend, flabbergasted as to what might’ve happened. What in Merlin’s name was in that letter?

Arcturus was surly most of the time leading up to the Christmas holidays. He’d written the Tonks and told them as politely as he could muster that he’d decided to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas. They had been gracious, of course, and told him that they’d send their gifts for him on to the castle and to enjoy his holiday.

Fred, George, and Lee noticed his foul mood, of course, but they’d seemed to have collectively decided to steer clear of it. Lee had obviously told the twins of the letter from Tonks that had set it all off, which didn’t give them much of an explanation, but at least allowed them a topic to avoid. Then on the Thursday before Christmas Professor McGonagall put an announcement in the Gryffindor common room for a new club.

“It’s a Dueling Club,” Lee said excitedly, “Probably because of all the attacks. Should be good for a laugh, right Arcturus?”

“I know how to duel,” Arcturus grumbled.

His friends exchanged concerned glances behind his back as he stuck his nose back in his Transfiguration book. But, come eight o’clock that night they were able to drag him away from his “studies” (“Holidays are coming up, what could you possibly have to study?”) and down to the Great Hall. Most of the school had the same idea and even though the dining tables had been removed in place of a golden stage, the place was still absolutely packed.

Arcturus, Lee, and the twins moved around the sides until they had a good view of the stage. The twins surveyed the crowd with ill-concealed glee and Arcturus knew they were thinking of some prank that would be perfect just now. Arcturus couldn’t help but think about their supply of fireworks up in their dormitory and part of him wished he’d thought to bring one down, just in case things got too boring.

The crowd chattered excitedly until Lockhart swept onto the stage wearing purple robes and flashing that stupid grin. Arcturus groaned. A part of him had hoped they’d maybe learn something useful here, but it seemed that would not be the case if Lockhart was “instructing”. Snape accompanied him, which at least perked Arcturus up a little bit. The promise of watching Snape get hexed, even if only by accident, seemed to delight more than a few students in the crowd.

Lockhart waved his arm for silence, which was grudgingly given. “Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!

“Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions—for full details, see my published works.

“Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape. He tell sme he knows a tiny bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don’t want any of you youngsters to worry—you’ll still have your Potions master when I’m through with him, never fear!”

“I’d volunteer too if I got to hex that peacock,” Arcturus muttered to Lee. Lee grinned in reply.

“What do you think he’s going to do to him?”

Arcturus eyed the way Snape’s upper lip curled, almost in a semblance of a smile, and certainly the most “glee” he’d ever seen from the surly Potions master. “Something painful.”

The two teachers faced each other and Lockhart bowed with a weird sort of twirling motion that served absolutely no purpose, as far as Arcturus could tell. Snape jerked his head in return and they brandished their wands like they were getting ready for a sword-fight.

“As you can see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position,” Lockhart told them. A hush had fallen over the crowd in the promise of violence. “On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course.”

“Snape will,” said Arcturus.

“One—two—three—” Both swung their wands up, pointing at their opponent and Snape shouted, “ _Expelliarmus!”_ Scarlet light shot from his wand and blasted Lockhart right in the chest, sending him flying completely off the stage and into the far wall with a highly satisfying thump, to leave him sprawled on the floor in a daze.

Arcturus cheered along with some of the Slytherins and the twins and Lee stifled their own laughs. Lockhart staggered to his feet looking decidedly un-perfect now as he shook his head and climbed unsteadily back onto the stage.

“Well, there you have it! That was a Disarming Charm—as you see, I’ve lost my wand—ah, thank you, Miss Brown—yes, an excellent idea to show them that Professor Snape, but if you don’t mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy—however, I felt it would be instructive to let them see…”

If Snape could kill with his state, Lockhart would’ve been six feet under, and the DADA professor clearly realized it as he laughed awkwardly.

“Enough demonstrating! I’m going to come amongst you now and put you all in pairs. Professor Snape, if you’d like to help me—”

Arcturus was paired with Fred and Lee with George and they squared off, grinning at each other, even Arcturus. All the spells he’d read about and wanted to try on someone flashed through his mind. Nothing too painful of course; Fred was his friend after all. But surely a little transfiguration wouldn’t be too troublesome!

“Face your partners! And bow!”

Arcturus and Fred did their best impressions of Lockhart’s ridiculous flourish for before and brandished their wands at each other.

“Wands at the ready! When I count to three, cast your charms to Disarm your opponents— _only_ to disarm them—we don’t want any accidents—one…two…three—”

“ _Ducklifors!”_ Arcturus shouted. A yellow light shot from his wand just as a blue light shot from Fred’s. His jinx hit Fred in the arm while Fred’s took him at the knees. Arcturus found his legs glued together from the knee down and he was forced to hop around to keep his balance. Fred’s arm was transfigured into a giant duck wing and he laughed with a distinct quacking sound, flapping his new wing in circles. Next to them George had been turned a putrid green, like a zombie and Lee was completely bald.

The hall was absolute chaos as students shouted spells and their partners groaned and neighed and squeaked.

“ _I said Disarm only!”_ Lockhart shouted in alarm. “Stop! Stop!” Nobody paid him any attention.

“ _Finite Incantatem!”_ Snape shouted over the din. George went back to his normal color and Lee’s hair returned. Arcturus could move properly once more and Fred looked at his hand with disappointment. The rest of the Great Hall looked like a battlefield. Some sort of greenish smoke lingered over everything and many had fallen and were looking around dazed. There were a number of injuries and Lockhart scrambled through everyone, looking decidedly panicked as he offered advice to the injured.

“I think I’d better teach you how to _block_ unfriendly spells,” Lockhart said, looking to Snape. But if he had hoped for assistance from that quarter, he was to be disappointed. “Let’s have a volunteer pair—Longbottom and Finch-Fletchey, how about you—”

“A bad idea, Professor Lockhart,” said Snape, his voice silky smooth and very suspect. “Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We’ll be sending what’s left of Finch-Fletchey up to the hospital wing in a matchbox. How about Malfoy and Potter?”

“Excellent idea!” Lockhart declared and Arcturus couldn’t help but agree with him. It was well-known that Potter hated Malfoy, and if Arcturus couldn’t have a go at the git himself, well at least Potter might be able to do some damage. And if he got his arse kicked by Malfoy, then that would be entertaining too. Either way, Arcturus was going to have a front-row seat!

He elbowed his way forward as the crowd spread out, creating a big circle around the pair in the center of the room. Lockhart demonstrated some sort of elaborate pattern that was most decidedly _not_ a shield charm, dropping his wand in the process, while Snape whispered something into Malfoy’s ear that made the git smirk.

Potter looked decidedly nervous. “Professor, could you show me that blocking thing again?”

“Just do what I did, Harry!”

“What, drop my wand?” Arcturus snorted.

Lockhart ignored the comment, though. “Three—two—one—go!”

Malfoy jabbed his wand at Potter and bellowed, “ _Serpensortia!”_

Arcturus hadn’t heard of that hex before, but he and the rest of the students watched in fascination and then horror as a long black snake shot out of Malfoy’s wand and landed on the floor in the middle of the hall, hissing and threatening to strike. The other students screamed in alarm and swiftly pushed back. Potter had frozen, staring eye-to-eye with the snake. Arcturus’s own hand was clenched on his wand, ready to blast the slithery reptile into oblivion if the thing turned on him.

“Don’t move, Potter. I’ll get rid of it for you…” Snape said, looking almost bored with Potter’s inaction, but Arcturus knew the berk was absolutely loving all of this.

“Allow me!” shouted Lockhart, brandishing his wand. There was a loud bang and the snake flew up high into the air and then came back down with a loud smack, enraging it further. It hissed in warning and slithered towards a Hufflepuff boy, rising to strike.

Suddenly Potter moved towards the snake, making some sort of strange hissing noises. The snake suddenly turned away, laying down docilely at Potter’s feet. Arcturus watched it all in absolutely shock and then horror as he realized what he’d just witnessed. There were plenty of stories about them among the old Wizarding families, especially the ones with long ties to Salazar Slytherin’s house. But the ability was so rare, he didn’t know anyone who could actually do it, until now.

Harry Potter was a Parselmouth. He could _talk_ to _snakes_! Salazar Slytherin was the most famous Parselmouth, but the second most famous was the Dark Lord himself. Potter looked content with himself, but everyone else was horrified. Arcturus couldn’t believe what he’d just witnessed. Potter, a Parselmouth? That was considered a Dark talent. The Potters weren’t Slytherins, they’d been Gryffindors since the school’s founding. And Potter’s mother was a Muggle-born, so where could he have inherited that talent? Unless, there was some connection that was hidden. But surely not.

“What do you think you’re playing at?” the Hufflepuff shouted at Potter and stormed off. Snape vanished the snake as Potter’s friends hustled him out of the hall. All around, the rest of the students were talking about what they’d just seen. It was the revelation of the century, and to have come at such a time. The Chamber of Secrets was opened, two had been attacked, and Potter was a Parselmouth, the talent Slytherin was famous for. It didn’t take a genius to put the pieces together.

“Merlin!” Arcturus breathed as the twins and Lee caught up to him. The Dueling Club had disbanded by general consensus more than Lockhart actually dismissing them.

“Didn’t see _that_ coming,” said Fred. “Did you know he could do that, George?”

“He’s never said,” George replied.

Arcturus shook his head. “It doesn’t make any sense. Unless…” He stopped, looking decidedly paler than normal. “Maybe, Potter does have some sort of tie to Slytherin.”

“Aw, quit it, Archie,” George said. “I think there’s been enough excitement for one night.”

“No, there’s no other explanation!” Arcturus insisted. They’d stopped in a quiet corridor on their way back to Gryffindor tower. “Parselmouths, speaking Parseltongue, that’s not just something you can _learn_. It’s inherited. And the _only_ bloodline it’s present in is Slytherin’s.”

“Yeah, but wasn’t Potter’s dad from a Gryffindor family?” Lee asked.

“Yes, but you know how the old Wizarding families are all related. Hell, I think Fred, George, and I are like third or fourth cousins. So it’s still possible that somewhere in his family tree, someone joined the bloodlines.”

“So, you’re saying Potter could be related to Salazar Slytherin?”

“He _has_ to be. That’s the only way he could do what he just did!”

They stared at each other, nobody really daring to say the conclusion they’d all inevitably come to in their own minds. It was too much to think.

“The Chamber of Secrets can _only_ be opened by the Heir of Slytherin,” Arcturus said at last. “Which means that person is _probably_ a Parselmouth.”

Fred suddenly started laughing. Arcturus, George, and Lee looked at him like he’d finally cracked.

“You really had us going for a second there, Archie boy!” Fred declared, slapping him good-naturedly on the shoulder. “You should go into theater or something.”

But Arcturus most decidedly _wasn’t_ joking. He looked Fred in the eye and the Weasley twin’s laughter died.

“I’m serious this time,” Arcturus said slowly. “I think Harry Potter is the Heir of Slytherin.”


	29. Caught

Chapter 29: Caught

A blizzard blew in overnight, leaving the grounds coated in a thick layer of snow with more still coming. Any outdoor classes were cancelled, but the extra free period only meant that the students had plenty of time to gossip. And the topic on everyone’s mind was Potter’s revelation at the Dueling Club the night before.

Fred, George, and Lee all seemed to have recovered a bit from Arcturus’s revelation, but really they just seemed to be determined not to bring it up again, something nobody else was willing to do. Arcturus decided his free period from his cancelled Care of Magical Creatures class would be better spent down in the library. Maybe he could find one of those old genealogy books, the ones that listed off all the old Wizarding families. He could maybe find the link between Potter and Slytherin and confirm his suspicions.

But even the library was a buzz of conversation with clumps of students clustered together, whispering amongst each other so as not to attract the ire of Madam Pince. She gave Arcturus a pointed look when he entered, but she didn’t stop him so maybe he was forgiven from the last time he’d been kicked out of the library.

Arcturus was just browsing the shelves at the back of the library, where they kept the less interesting topics. There was a group of Hufflepuffs at a nearby table, heads together, no doubt talking about what happened to their friend last night. Arcturus didn’t know anything about the Hufflepuff boy, only that he’d looked scared shitless. Rightfully so, maybe.

Then Potter suddenly stepped out from behind a shelf on the other side of the table, clearing his throat loudly. Arcturus pushed himself back against the shelf instinctively as all the Hufflepuffs froze, the lot of them looking suddenly paled. Arcturus couldn’t make out exactly what Potter was saying to them, but he watched from his concealed spot, peering around the end of the shelf. It was clearly some sort of argument, conducted in low voices, until Potter had a sudden outburst.

“I don’t care what sort of blood you’ve got! Why would I want to attack Muggle-borns?”

“I’ve heard you hate those Muggles you live with!” a Hufflepuff boy shot back.

“It’s not possible to live with the Dursleys and not hate them. I’d like to see you try it.”

Potter stormed out and Arcturus had only a second to decide what he was going to do. He tossed the book in his hand back on the shelf and hurried out after him.

Potter wandered around the corridors, seemingly aimlessly. Arcturus stayed back a bit, following him but not willing to let Potter know he was following him. Potter was absolutely fuming, so much so that he didn’t even notice _Hagrid_ , carrying what looked to be a dead rooster until he’d run into him. Arcturus hung back, watching as the two exchanged pleasantries and Hagrid brandished the bloody, dead rooster. Really, did he have to be carrying the thing all through the school, absolutely disgusting! They eventually went their own ways, but Arcturus was forced to wait until Hagrid lumbered down another corridor before he could go after Potter again. By then, Potter had stormed off, but Arcturus wasn’t sure which way.

He drew his wand, remembering a useful spell Tonks had taught him last summer when they’d gotten a bit lost in Rome.

He held his wand flat in his hand and muttered, “ _Point me_.”

The wand spun off towards a corridor to the right and Arcturus hurried, hoping to catch up to Potter. He couldn’t figure out where the other boy was going, but it wasn’t towards Gryffindor tower. Arcturus’s heart raced as he climbed the stairs, trying to keep from breathing too heavy and giving himself away. The corridors were practically deserted here. He turned a corner and was met with an icy draft that caught him by surprise and made him gasp. The torches had been extinguished, for some reason, and he lit the tip of his wand and nearly cried out in surprise.

Potter stood just before him, a blackened Nearly Headless Nick floating motionless before him, and the Hufflepuff boy from last night’s Dueling Club, rigid and lifeless at his feet.

They both stared at each other for a moment, Potter clearly not expecting to have been caught in the act. Arcturus tried to summon a hex, but he couldn’t think of anything. Both just panted at each other, looking ghostly in the pale light from Arcturus’s wand. It was Potter who gained his voice back first.

“Black! We have to get help, I don’t know what happened—”

“You attacked them!” Arcturus blurted out. “I can’t believe—you really are the Heir of Slytherin!”

“No—I didn’t, you don’t understa—”

Suddenly a door to the right banged open and Peeves the Poltergeist shot out, cackling wildly.

“Potty and the murderer’s boy!” he declared, knocking into Potter and causing Arcturus to duck. “Why’s they _lurking_ —”

He stopped suddenly, hanging upside down as he spotted the Hufflepuff and Nearly Headless Nick. Then he flipped right side up and bellowed, “ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTACK!”

Crashes echoed down the corridor as doors were flung open and the corridor was suddenly flooded with people. They stopped when they saw Arcturus with his wand pointed at Potter, standing over the latest victims. Professor McGonagall made her way through the crowd, setting off a loud _bang_ which silenced the lot, and ordered everyone back to their classes. One of the Hufflepuffs, the one that Potter had gotten into an argument with in the library just a short while ago, suddenly raced around the corner.

“ _Caught in the act!”_ he declared, pointing dramatically at Potter.

“That will do, Macmillan!” McGonagall said sharply.

Peeves was bouncing up and down over the chaos, absolutely gleeful and singing:

“ _Oh Potter, you rotter, and the murderer’s son,_

_You’re killing off students, you think it’s good fun—”_

“That’s enough Peeves!” barked McGonagall, making Peeves zoom off, still singing his song. Arcturus frowned at the words. He’d _caught_ Potter, he wasn’t part of the attack too!

Professors Flitwick and Sinistra took the rigid Hufflepuff boy up to the hospital wing and the only way they were able to get Nearly Headless Nick moving was with a giant fan, wielded by the Macmillan bloke. He fanned Nick off, following after the professors, leaving Arcturus and Potter alone with McGonagall.

“This way, both of you,” she said.

Potter tried to protest, “Professor, I swear I didn’t—”

“I _caught_ you Potter!” Arcturus snarled. “Don’t even try to—”

“Put your wand _away_ , Mr. Black,” McGonagall ordered. “This is out of my hands.”

She marched them in silence until they stood before an ugly gargoyle, and Arcturus knew what was coming next. He’d been in trouble enough to know where the Headmaster’s office was.

“Lemon drop,” McGonagall said and the gargoyle sprang aside, allowing them access to the spiral stairs that took them up to the Headmaster’s office.

The office was empty, but McGonagall told them to wait and don’t touch anything before she left, likely to go get Dumbledore. Arcturus huffed and threw himself into one of the chairs in front of the Headmaster’s desk as Potter looked around, wide-eyed, at all the trinkets Dumbledore kept everywhere. The man clearly liked to hoard magical artifacts, Arcturus thought. Portraits of past Headmasters and Headmistresses were hung on the walls, most of them snoozing in their frames.

“Young Arcturus Black, back _again_?”

Arcturus groaned as he looked up at the portrait of his great-great-great grandfather. Phineas Nigellus Black had been a Headmaster of Hogwarts, and he was one of the sort that most of the Black family was proud to claim. That is, he was a bigoted old bastard who was a Slytherin through and through. Arcturus had read about him and knew he was probably one of the most hated Headmasters Hogwarts had ever seen, but he still merited a portrait in the Headmaster’s office.

“Shut up Phineas,” Arcturus grumbled.

“Young man, you are in _no position_ to dictate terms to me. What is it this time? Dungbombs in the toilets? Still fraternizing with those _Weasley_ troublemakers again?”

“Who are you?” Potter asked, looking up at the annoying portrait.

“Phineas Nigellus Black,” the portrait declared, “Of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. And you are Mr. Harry Potter, if I am not mistaken. And I hardly ever am.”

“He’s my whatever many times great-grandfather,” Arcturus grumbled, glaring up at the portrait. “And he’d keep his flapping gob shut if he knew what was best for him!” he added loudly.

“If you would show even a fraction of the propriety expected of a member of the House of Black then I would hardly have to say anything, would I?” Phineas retorted.

Arcturus just made a rude gesture at him, setting off another string of muttered comments from the portrait.

“Your great- _grandfather_?” said Potter.

“We’re not talking about my family tree, _Potter_ ,” Arcturus spat. “I’m not the one caught attacking another student. When did you realize you were Slytherin’s Heir? Was it after you got here, or even before? Is that when you decided to open the Chamber and start killing Mudbloods?”

“I’m not the Heir of Slytherin!” Potter roared, his fists clenching like he was going to punch Arcturus. Arcturus’s hand was on his wand again in an instant.

“You’re a bloody Parselmouth! And you’ve been caught twice at the scene! And this time you’re not getting away with it! I found you, I know what I saw!”

“You don’t know anything!”

They were interrupted by a strangled sort of gagging noise. Both boys looked up and noticed a decrepit-looking bird, half his feathers missing, standing on a golden perch behind the door. More feathers fell out as it made it’s horrible retching sounds, before it suddenly burst into flames.

Potter yelled and looked around frantically and even Arcturus had an _Aguamenti_ on the tip of his tongue before the bird was consumed in a fireball and, with one final shriek, was nothing more than a pile of ashes on the floor.

“What the—”

Dumbledore suddenly opened the door, strangling Arcturus’s curse in his throat.

“Professor! Your bird—I couldn’t do anything—he just caught fire—”

Dumbledore looked between the astonished boys and then down at the pile of ashes under the perch, before he smiled.

“About time too,” he said. “He’s been looking dreadful for days; I’ve been telling him to get a move on.”

Potter looked stunned, but the words suddenly clicked in Arcturus’s mind.

“He’s a phoenix,” he blurted out.

“Yes,” Dumbledore confirmed. “Fawkes. You see Harry, phoenixes burst into flame when it is time for them to die and are reborn from the ashes. Come, observe…”

They huddled closer, just as a tiny, wrinkled baby bird poked his head out of the ashes, blinking languidly. It was an ugly little thing.

“It’s a shame you had to see him on a Burning Day,” Dumbledore told them as he moved to sit behind his desk. “He’s really very handsome most of the time, wonderful red and gold plumage. Fascinating creatures, phoenixes. They can carry immensely heavy loads, their tears have healing powers, and they make highly _faithful_ pets.”

‘ _If you can find one_ ,’ Arcturus thought. Phoenixes were not all that common. Fawkes was the only phoenix Arcturus had ever seen before. That Dumbledore kept one as a pet was certainly a testament to his magical power, and perhaps a little bit of showing off.

The office door flew open suddenly, almost ripped off its hinges as Hagrid burst into the office, covered in snow, still wielding that disgusting dead rooster from before.

“It wasn’ Harry, Professor Dumbledore!” he said urgently. “I was talkin’ ter him _seconds_ before the kid was found, he never had time, sir—”

“I caught him red-handed!” Arcturus shouted back. It was absolutely unbelievable how everyone seemed certain that Potter hadn’t been behind the attack, even with the overwhelming amount of evidence against him!

“He didn’ do nothin!” Hagrid shouted back. “Yeh’ve got the wrong boy, sir!”

“ _Hagrid!_ ” Dumbledore said loudly, cutting off Arcturus’s rebuttal. “I do _not_ think Harry attacked those people.”

“Oh,” said Hagrid, the rooster in his hand flopping limply. “Right, I’ll wait outside then, Headmaster.” The groundskeeper slipped out, looking embarrassed but a bit relieved. Arcturus was _fuming_.

“Why not!” he thundered. “I caught Potter in the corridor right at the time of the attack! And everyone knows he didn’t like that Hufflepuff bloke. He set a snake on him with Parseltongue last night!”

“That’s a lie!” Potter bellowed. “I didn’t _touch_ Justin, or any of the others. And I was trying to _stop_ the snake.”

“You were encouraging it, don’t deny it!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, _Black_!”

“I know a Dark wizard when I see one, _Potter_!”

Both boys jumped back as a shower of sparks went off right between them. Dumbledore set his wand down on his desk with a sigh.

“Mr. Black, I will ask you to wait outside a moment. I would like to speak to Mr. Potter without interruptions.”

Arcturus looked at Potter and then back at the Headmaster, and he couldn’t believe what was happening. Potter was going to get away with it! He was certain. Dumbledore _clearly_ favored Potter, as did Hagrid, and McGonagall, and every other teacher except perhaps Snape. They simply _wouldn’t_ believe that their favorite could’ve attacked his fellow students.

“I—”

“ _Now_ , Mr. Black,” Dumbledore said.

Arcturus had no choice but to step out, slamming the door behind him to make his disagreement known. He stormed down the stairs and found himself with Hagrid down in the corridor. Arcturus suppressed a groan as Hagrid turned on him.

“Yeh shouldn’ say things like that about Harry. He wouldn’ harm nobody.”

“I know what I saw, even if nobody else will believe me,” Arcturus retorted. He leaned against the wall, arms folded across his chest, refusing to even acknowledge Hagrid again. A few students passed them in the corridor, looking curiously at Arcturus and eyeing the dead rooster Hagrid was _still_ carrying. They stood in silence for a while, but Arcturus’s curiosity got the better of him.

“Why are you even carrying that thing?”

Hagrid looked down at the rooster, almost as if he’d forgotten he was still holding it.

“Oh, it’s the second one killed this term. Figure it’s either foxes or a Blood-Suckin’ Bugbear. Need the headmaster’s permission ter put a charm around the hen coop.”

Arcturus had no idea what a Blood-Sucking Bugbear was, but he was fairly certain it wasn’t what was killing the roosters. Foxes were more likely.

The stairs moved and Potter came down looking pensive, but decidedly _not_ expelled.

“He wants to see you now,” he told Arcturus. He then nodded at Hagrid and left.

Arcturus took the stairs back up and at least brought himself to knock before he entered the Headmaster’s office again. Dumbledore looked as thoughtful as Potter as Arcturus came to stand before his desk.

“Mr. Black, I know you think you caught Mr. Potter in the act of attacking Mr. Finch-Fletchey and Sir Nicholas.”

“I _know_ I did,” Arcturus replied. “But you won’t believe me.”

“I believe that you are certain in your convictions, and I understand why you feel they are correct. As I understand it, Peeves thought _you_ were involved as well.”

“Of course I wasn’t.”

“Yes, of course. But I think you are also overlooking a very important detail.”

“And what’s that?”

“Mind your tone, young man!” Phineas snapped from his portrait.

Arcturus went to respond, but Dumbledore beat him to it.

“Thank you, Phineas, I believe I have this well in hand.”

“I am bound to serve Hogwarts,” Phineas replied curtly, but he didn’t make any other comments.

Arcturus folded his hands across his chest, doing his best to channel Lucius Malfoy in that moment. “And what very important detail am I overlooking…sir,” he added, just because he wasn’t interested in more detentions.

“ _How_ , Mr. Black.”

“With the beast from the Chamber of course!”

“Did you see this beast?”

“Well…no,” Arcturus admitted begrudgingly. And he hadn’t. It had just been Potter and his victims in the corridor. “But it was dark when I arrived.”

“But surely, if you arrived right at the time of the attack as you say, you would’ve seen something? Some clue as to how it was done?”

Arcturus suddenly realized where all this was going.

“You don’t know how he did it, do you?”

“I don’t believe Mr. Potter is behind the attacks.”

“But even if he is, you don’t know how he’s doing it. You’re still trying to figure it out!”

Dumbledore sighed heavily, the picture of a resigned wizard. “Very well, Mr. Black, we shall perhaps continue this discussion at a later time. But think on what I have said. How, and why, are two very important questions to ask. Often some things are not as they seem, and only by seeking to understand can we come to the truth.”


	30. A Truce

Chapter 30: A Truce

Arcturus steering clear of Potter and his friends as much as he could. The holidays ended and term started again and there were no new attacks. Arcturus was certain Potter was “laying low” because he knew Arcturus was on to him. Arcturus for his part, couldn’t get Dumbledore’s words out of his head. “ _How and why are two very important questions to ask.”_ He realized that, really he didn’t know either.

Potter’s friend Granger was a Muggle-born. On the surface the “why” seemed obvious. Slytherin hated Muggle-borns and didn’t think they should be at the school. The legend said that his Heir would purge the school of those who were not worthy of studying magic, the Muggle-borns. So Potter was just fulfilling Slytherin’s wishes. But then, why was he friends with Granger?

For a while, Arcturus thought Potter had finally done Granger in too. She went missing during the holidays and wasn’t around when term started. Some surreptitious questioning (really he just asked Fred and George) led to his discovery that she was in the hospital wing. Some sort of magical incident gone wrong. She was hidden behind a curtain. Was she attacked too, and Dumbledore and the other teachers were just keeping it a secret?

But that theory was dashed when Granger returned to classes at the beginning of February. Arcturus found her in the library a lot. He wasn’t looking for her, of course! He was doing is own research, building his case against Potter. It was not going particularly well, though. He’d searched every genealogy book in the Hogwarts library, but he couldn’t find a single instance where the Potter family ever had any connections with Slytherin’s line. If anything, it seemed like Slytherin’s line had died out, _years_ before even Potter’s father was born. But surely not, if the Heir lived.

Granger was intent on some sort of research of her own. And it surely wasn’t for class. The books she always had in front of her were thick and much more advanced than any second year might read. She always sat at the same table, her nose practically touching the parchment, ink-stained fingers grasping her quill eagerly. She’d jot down some notes, flip to the next page, and continue. After a while, Arcturus was convinced Granger did nothing but eat, sleep, attend classes, and research in the library. And by the time May rolled around, and there still hadn’t been another attack, and he was no closer to finding anything out than he was five months ago, Arcturus, reluctantly, spoke to her.

“What exactly are you looking for?”

Granger looked up, at first confused and then when she realized who was talking to her, she looked upset.

“Why should I tell _you_?” she retorted. Clearly Potter had shared the details of Arcturus’s accusations with her.

“Because,” he said, fighting to keep his voice down and his temper in check, “I suspect we are looking for the same thing.”

“What are you looking for?” she asked warily.

“The _how_ ,” he said. He knew he didn’t have to say any more. She understood. Granger was smart; much smarter than Potter or Ron Weasley. Honestly, Arcturus didn’t know how she could spend so much time with them.

Granger hesitated, biting her lip as she clearly weighed his words carefully. Then, to Arcturus’s surprise, she moved the books from the chair next to her, the only sort of offer he’d get. He sat down, eager not to miss this opportunity. There wasn’t much time before the Quidditch match against Hufflepuff, but maybe between the two of them they could make some headway before they had to leave.

“What have you figured out?” he asked.

“Some, but not enough,” she admitted. “There’s something I’m missing. I know that the Chamber of Secrets was opened before, fifty years ago.”

Arcturus hadn’t been expecting to hear _that_. “What? It was opened before? How do you know?”

“From…a first-hand account I found,” she said. “But the culprit was supposedly caught and there hasn’t been any instances of attacks since then. I don’t know what’s different this time. What is curious to me is the Petrification.”

That too had intrigued Arcturus. If the Heir wanted to purge the school of Muggle-borns, why wasn’t he just outright killing them? Sprout had a crop of mandrakes, and Arcturus knew they would be mature soon and once they were, they would brew a potion to revive those who were Petrified. And then they’d likely be able to point to their attacker. So why take the risk?

He said as much and Granger nodded in agreement. “Yes, it doesn’t make any sense. And anyways, what sort of creature could do something like that? And how is it moving through the school without _anybody_ seeing it?”

“Well I think we can narrow some things down,” Arcturus said.

“How do you mean?”

“Well, what is Slytherin most known for?”

“Besides being a pureblooded bigot?”

Arcturus snorted and Granger actually seemed surprised at his reaction.

“What? Just because my family is a load of wankers, doesn’t mean I am. But no, not just that. He was a Parselmouth, like your friend Potter.”

“Harry isn’t behind this.”

“Sure. But you have to admit, it’s not exactly something everyone can do. In fact, in Britain it’s only present in Slytherin’s line. Seems like something of note.”

“A Parselmouth…” Granger hummed, looking down at her notes and tapping the feathered end of her quill against her chin.

“So, it’s likely that whatever it is in the Chamber, it’s something slithery. Something that a Parselmouth could control.”

“A snake. Yes, it _would_ make sense. And it would also explain why Harry was—”

She cut off, suddenly glancing his way, as if she’d realized that she was saying too much. But Arcturus pounced on her slip.

“What was Potter doing?” he demanded.

“Harry wasn’t _doing_ anything,” she retorted. But she hesitated and then sighed. “Harry was hearing voices.”

“Voices.” That wasn’t a good thing, no matter who you are. So was Potter a nutter too? Is that why he was doing it?

“I know it sounds bad.”

“Because it _is_ bad. What if he was possessed or something?”

“I know Harry, he isn’t possessed. But _maybe_ he was hearing the beast. It would make sense if what you’re suggesting is true, that it’s a snake. He can understand snakes.”

If you suspended the obvious answer, Arcturus could admit her theory was a plausible one.

“Alright, so it’s a snake. Let’s see what we can find.”

They put their heads together, going through one of Granger’s books on extremely dangerous magical creatures called _Most Macabre Monstrosities_. Some of the things in there were absolutely nasty and Arcturus hoped never to find himself facing any of them. But they paused at one entry, something that Granger _must_ have seen, but rejected.

“A basilisk?” Arcturus read. He wasn’t familiar with it, but then again he’d only just started with Care of Magical Creatures this year. They had been learning about XX and XXX classification creatures, mostly common household pets and pests. “It’s got a 5 “X” rating, a known wizard killer, unable to be domesticated. ‘ _Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death_.’ If it was something like this, surely everyone would be _dead_. _”_

Granger rifled back through her notes, shaking her head. “Perhaps there’s a—of course! They aren’t dead, because nobody has looked directly in the basilisk’s eye. Look, Justin must’ve looked through Nearly Headless Neck, and Colin through his camera. And Mrs. Norris, well there was water on the floor that day, maybe she saw it’s reflection.”

“So, nobody’s dead because of…chance?”

“It would appear so.” Granger pressed closer, her mouth moving as she read the description of the basilisk.

“’ _Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy.’_ That would explain the spiders.”

“What spiders?”

“Harry noticed that there seemed to be spiders acting strangely where Mrs. Norris, and Justin, were Petrified. They were running away, because of the basilisk.

“And the roosters,” Arcturus added, pointing to the next line. “ _’The Basilisk flees only from the crowing of a rooster, which is fatal to it.’_ Something has been killing Hagrid’s roosters. He had a dead one the day I found Potter.”

The more they read, the more it made sense and their excitement was growing. But one detail wasn’t falling into place.

“That basilisk has to be hundreds of years old,” Arcturus said. “Snakes don’t stop growing, so it’s probably pretty big. How is it moving around without _anyone_ seeing it?”

Granger frowned. “You’re right, someone surely would’ve seen something that big. It can hardly move through the corridors, and most of the attacks were done during the day, before curfew. Unless, it’s not moving _in_ the corridors.”

“There’s no other way to get around Hogwarts.”

“Harry thought he was hearing the voice in the _wall_. It’s moving between the corridors.”

“Brick walls are pretty solid. But, there must be gaps. Secret passageways.”

“Pipes,” Granger declared. Then in a stunning, wholly unexpected move, she tore the page on the basilisk right out of _Most Macabre Monstrosities_ and began scribbling in the margin.

“What in Merlin’s name are you doing?” Arcturus hissed at her, looking around wildly for the school’s librarian. “Pince will have _both_ our heads!”

She dotted her note and shoved it under his nose, looking incredibly proud of herself.

“Pipes?” he read. “The plumbing? You think it’s moving around in the plumbing?”

“What else is everywhere in the castle, behind the walls? There are toilets everywhere, and sinks, Hogwarts is probably riddled with pipes and other such things. If it can get around in the pipes, it can go anywhere, without being seen. Then it comes out when it is going to attack someone, and disappears again right away. Think about it, there were even lavatories nearby the attacks we know about.”

There were. She was right, and she knew it as she beamed at Arcturus. Somehow in the course of a discussion, they’d managed to solve it. But there was one question that remained.

“Okay, you say it’s not Potter, even though he _is_ a Parselmouth and probably one of the only people in Britain who stands a chance of controlling something like this. So who is it then? The bloke who did it last time was expelled right?”

“That’s what Riddle said.”

“Riddle?”

She nodded. “The diary, the first-hand account. It was from a T. M. Riddle. He received an award for services to the school, probably by catching whoever did it the first time.”

That name sounded familiar, for some reason. Arcturus rushed back to the table he had been working at, and now it was Granger’s turn to look confused.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ve heard that name before,” he muttered, leafing back through the genealogy book he’d been using. It was where he’d discovered that the Slytherin line was dead. He flipped through the pages recklessly, hardly caring if anything got ripped. There it was! Marvolo Gaunt, who’d had two children, Morfin and Merope. Morfin had died childless, but Merope there was a line. Magical genealogy was such that it didn’t matter if anyone knew. The books knew. Connected to Merope Gaunt’s name was a line to a Tom Riddle, and below it all, Tom Marvolo Riddle.

“T. M. Riddle,” Hermione breathed, looking at the name Arcturus proudly pointed to.

“Looks like they got it wrong. Riddle wasn’t the guy who stopped it. He was doing it! The last Heir of Slytherin.”

“That was decades ago. And he didn’t have any children?”

“No,” Arcturus admitted. That much was clear. There was no line from Tom Marvolo Riddle.”

“But it’s not Harry. You have to admit that.”

Even with the revelation, Arcturus wasn’t totally convinced. There were no connections between Potter and Tom Marvolo Riddle, or any of the other wizards and witches in the Slytherin-Gaunt line. But Potter was still the only Parselmouth around, as far as anyone knew. If it wasn’t him, then who?

“We should take this to someone,” he said, not willing to quite agree with her. “To Dumbledore.”

“And Harry. He should know. Maybe he can help!”

But suddenly, knowing that a basilisk was loose around the castle, wandering around alone didn’t seem like the safest option.

“We should go together,” Arcturus said.

“What if we find—”

“Close your eyes and run?”

“We might not get the chance to. We need to be careful about this. They have to get this information.” Granger looked around and spotted a magnifying glass on a study table nearby. She grabbed it suddenly holding it up.

“How is that supposed to help us?”

“Watch.” She concentrated a moment and then tapped her wand on the glass. It rippled, transforming itself so instead of magnifying, it reflected. She made a handheld mirror. “We can use this to look around corners, just in case.”

It was still not the best idea, but better than nothing, he supposed. And frankly, Arcturus couldn’t come up with anything better. He grabbed his bag and Hermione grabbed hers, ignoring the fact that their desks were still covered in books. It was good for Madam Pince to have something to do, rather than just terrorizing students.

“Alright, Granger—”

“Hermione.”

“What?”

She shrugged, suddenly looking a bit shy. “We figured this out together. I don’t know that I would’ve put the clues together if it wasn’t for you. I think you can call me ‘Hermione’.”

She wasn’t too bad, even if she was blinded like everyone else when it came to Potter. He shrugged. “Arcturus to you, then. Alright, Hermione. Let’s go.”

They moved together, Arcturus with his wand at the ready, Hermione wielding the transfigured mirror and the page on the basilisk. They tried to move quickly, but had to pause at corners to check the next corridor. Most of the students were already making their way down to the Quidditch pitch. The match would start soon, and it looked like Arcturus would miss at least part of it. They came to the last corner, around which stood Dumbledore’s office. Arcturus hoped the password was still “lemon drops”. He and Hermione peered around the corner cautiously. The last thing he remembered was catching sight of a green, scaly body, and two glowing, yellow eyes.


	31. Good News

Chapter 31: Good News

When Arcturus came to again, he was incredibly sore and stiff, and hungry like he hadn’t eaten in days. And then he found out that he actually hadn’t eaten in three weeks. He and Hermione had gotten lucky. The mirror had done it’s job. They’d only been Petrified when they’d met the basilisk on their way to tell Dumbledore about what they’d found.

As it turned out, Potter had managed to save the day again, and he wasn’t the Heir of Slytherin. That dubious honor had fallen to Fred and George’s sister, Ginny Weasley. She was possessed by the diary of Tom Riddle and forced to open the Chamber of Secrets. Tom Riddle, through Ginny, had been controlling the basilisk. He was the true Heir of Slytherin.

“Ginny is okay,” Fred told him, sitting on his hospital bed as Arcturus wolfed down as much food as he could. He was doing his best to make up for all the meals he’d missed while being Petrified. Madam Pomfrey had told him that it “doesn’t work like that, Mr. Black”, but he didn’t it was best to take any chances. George was on the other side of the bed, and Lee was in a chair. On the other side of the room, Potter and Ron were visiting with Hermione.

“Yeah, Harry and Ron went into the Chamber of Secrets and rescued her, with Fawkes’s help. You know, Dumbledore’s phoenix?” George said.

“Yeah, we’ve met,” Arcturus said around his mouthful of roast beef sandwich.

“She was lucky,” said Fred, suddenly somber. “I don’t know what would’ve happened if—”

Arcturus paused, not expecting to see Fred like this. George too, looked sad and pensive. Arcturus supposed that if he’d had a little sister, and she had been in Ginny’s position, he’d be feeling the same way. Probably guilty at not seeing it, relieved that she was okay nonetheless, scared that he’d come so close to losing her.

He swallowed his mouthful heavily. “She’s alright, though.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s going to be fine. The diary was destroyed right?”

“That’s what Harry said. And he killed the basilisk, with the Sword of Gryffindor.”

“Then it can’t hurt anyone ever again. Everything’s going to be okay.” Though, Arcturus didn’t know there was such a thing as the Sword of Gryffindor, much less where Potter had gotten it from.

“We almost forgot,” Lee said suddenly, pulling an envelope out of his robes. “This came for you, while you were Petrified. It’s from Minister Fudge himself!’

Nothing else mattered as Arcturus grabbed the envelope from Lee and tore the seal apart, barely glancing it. It was definitely from the Minister for Magic. The words swam on the parchment and Arcturus blinked, trying to focus, but was having a hard time of it. Apparently there were still a few lingering effects from his Petrification.

“Do you want me to read it?” Lee offered.

Arcturus grunted the affirmative, handing it back.

“Right then.

‘ _Dear Mr. Black, I was most surprised to have received your letter, courtesy of Rufus Scrimgeour. Please know that I have striven to respond to you sooner, however Ministry matters have consumed much of my time of late._

_‘I understand your concern and rest assured you have my greatest sympathies in your most unfortunate situation. While so often it is not within the Minster for Magic’s power to grant the wishes of all of his citizens, as a courtesy to your late great-grandfather, who was most active in my early political career, I would be happy to assist you._

_‘Therefore, upon my next scheduled inspection of Azkaban next month, I will endeavor to make the appropriate inquires which you have included in your letter and will make every attempt to respond quickly upon the conclusion of my inspection. However, I am obliged to temper your hope. As a long-term resident of Azkaban, it is very unlikely your father will be in a fit state, or at all inclined, to agree to your requests. Nevertheless, I will impress upon him the urgency which you have expressed._

_‘Rest assured, your interests are in good hands. Hoping you are well, Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic.’”_

Arcturus and his friends whooped in triumph, thrilled that their earlier efforts, it seemed, were finally paying off. After being Petrified by a basilisk, really almost being killed, Arcturus needed the good news. He took the letter from Lee and tried to re-read the Minister’s words, but it was no use. He just wasn’t up to reading yet.

“That’s great, Arcturus!” Lee congratulated him.

“Next month,” Arcturus said, laughing. “Just a month away, and then it could all be over!”

“Gentlemen!” Madam Pomfrey scolded. “The hospital wing is not a Quidditch pitch. You will control yourselves so that my patients can rest, or I will not allow you to visit!”

They made their apologies, but even being told off wasn’t enough to darken Arcturus’s spirits. Across the infirmary, Hermione and her friends were watching with curiosity, and Arcturus found himself grinning from ear-to-ear at her, wanting to share his good news. But she wouldn’t understand what that meant.

“We’ve gotta go, mate,” George said. “But we’re glad you’re not Petrified.”

“Or dead,” Fred added.

“Thanks, guys. And thanks for bringing the letter, Lee.”

“I hoped it would cheer you up. We’ll see you later.”

Later that day, Arcturus was surprised when Aunt Andromeda and Uncle Ted arrived at the hospital wing. They spotted him immediately and hurried to his bedside, tears falling down Aunt Andromeda’s cheeks.

“Arcturus, thank Merlin you’re alright!” she said, wrapping him up in a hug. “We were so worried when we found out what happened.”

“When you—who told you?”

“Dora did,” Uncle Ted said. “She got a letter from your friends after it happened. They wouldn’t let us come see you sooner.”

“Not like I would’ve noticed anyways,” Arcturus said. His early anger at Tonks’s letter had faded, especially with the Minister’s promise. He supposed she’d just been trying to look out for him, almost like a big sister might. Being an only child, Arcturus wasn’t really used to that. And, it was good that they’d come. Arcturus didn’t realize how much he’d missed them until he sat, wrapped in his aunt’s embrace.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, sitting down next to him.

“Sore, tired,” he said. “My eyes aren’t quite right yet. I can’t read anything.”

“Well, that’s not entirely unexpected. But otherwise, everything is alright?”

“Yep, fit for a duel.”

“Your friends told us about the mirror you were using when it happened,” Uncle Ted said. “That was smart thinking.”

“I can’t take all the credit,” Arcturus admitted. “Hermione Granger, Harry Potter’s friend, she thought of it first.” He nodded towards Hermione, who seemed to be doing her best to read her book, even though she was squinting and holding it at arm’s length. “We figured it out together.”

“It’s just awful, that something like that was hidden in the school!” Aunt Andromeda looked like she was going to start crying again, but she managed to buck up and squeezed his hand, smiling sadly. “But you’re okay. Everyone is okay, by some miracle.”

Arcturus looked at the letter on his bedside table and he debated with himself whether he wanted to tell them the other bit of good news. After they’d tried themselves and been unsuccessful, he didn’t want to get their hopes up again. But they probably deserved to know.

“I got a letter from the Minister for Magic, about my father,” he said softly.

Aunt Andromeda and Uncle Ted looked confused, but Arcturus gave them the letter and let them read it. Their confusion gave way to astonishment, and maybe a bit of hope as they read the letter together.

Uncle Ted laughed when he came to the end. “You wrote to the Minister for Magic?”

Arcturus shrugged. “I wasn’t going to just give up. Figured I needed to go to the top.”

“Using the Black name, apparently,” Aunt Andromeda added. “How very Slytherin of you.”

“It was my friends’ idea. And anyways, it worked. He’s going to see him.”

“Arcturus…”

“I know Uncle Ted, I can’t get my hopes up. But you have to admit that this is…promising at least, right?”

“Yes, very promising. And of course we’ll help you if you need it. Though it seems that you don’t!”

Arcturus fiddled with the blanket. “I just…want to be with people who want to be with me. Is that not right?”

“Of course it is,” Aunt Andromeda said firmly. “And the day that you can live with us, we’ll have your room ready for you.” They hugged him and Arcturus squeezed back, maybe a bit too long. It felt good, though, to have it confirmed. They really did want him; they said it themselves.

Aunt Andromeda and Uncle Ted stayed through supper and the house-elves were helpful enough to bring enough food for the three of them. They talked about the last year, and relived funny stories from their last vacation together. Arcturus’s aunt and uncle told him all about how Tonks was progressing in her training, still not the top of her class, but doing significantly better. Hearing about Arcturus’s Petrification had been a huge blow, but she’d turned it around and used it as motivation.

“She misses you terribly, you know,” Aunt Andromeda said. “You should write her when you are feeling up to it. She’s concerned you are still angry with her over her last letter.”

“I was,” Arcturus admitted. “But not anymore. As soon as I can, I’ll write.”

“And we’ll talk about plans for this summer later,” Uncle Ted added. “I was thinking America for our next trip. How does that sound?”

“I’ve never been there,” Arcturus shrugged. “Could be fun.”

Uncle Ted laughed, “Could be.”

It was late when they bid him goodnight and directed him to get some sleep. Madam Pomfrey had been kind enough to let them stay past visiting hours. She smiled fondly at them as they left, so maybe they’d known each other in school or something.

“Was that your aunt and uncle? The ones you live with?” Hermione asked.

“Yes, but they’re not the ones I live with. At least, not yet,” Arcturus replied. He drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face, the promise of the summer a happy thought in his mind.


	32. The Great Escape

Chapter 32: The Great Escape

The Squibs were their usual annoying selves when Arcturus went to their house for the summer. He tried to reassure himself with thoughts of the next trip he had planned with the Tonks, this one later in the summer. They were going to America, starting in New York and ending all the way across the country in San Francisco. It wouldn’t be brooms this time, as there were just too many places to visit for that. It promised to be a packed two weeks at the end of August, but one Arcturus was most looking forward to.

Fred and George had invited him to the Burrow as well, but apparently their father had won the _Daily_ _Prophet_ Grand Prize Galleon Draw and they were all off to Egypt for the rest of the holidays and wouldn’t return until right before school started. And Lee wanted to take him to a Muggle football match, something Arcturus wasn’t necessarily interested in, except in the opportunity to spend time with his friend some more, and get out of the Squibs’ house, but the season didn’t start until closer to term. So Arcturus was stuck with the Squibs, bored out of his mind.

He hadn’t received much in the way of communications from Remus. All he knew was that he was going to be returning to Britain at the end of the summer. Apparently the job in Germany hadn’t been a very long one. A year later, he would be jobless again. It didn’t seem like he’d return in time to see Arcturus before the new term started, though. That was almost more disappointing than Remus losing his job. He missed the man who had become a friend and like another guardian figure to him. Though, many times Arcturus found himself taking care of _Remus_ more than Remus took care of him.

It was mid-July when he received the response from Minister Fudge.

“ _Dear Mr. Black, As promised, I met with your father, Sirius Black, upon my inspection of Azkaban and was surprised to find him in a rather competent mind. Having been in Azkaban for so long, it was certainly surprising to find him in the state that I did. He even asked to borrow my copy of the_ Daily Prophet _, which I obliged._

_“Regarding you, however, he refused to speak. I attempted multiple times to bring up the subject, but he would not hear of it. I did discuss with him, as you requested, his relinquishment of the rights of Headship and he replied, very firmly and in no uncertain terms, ‘No.’ As he appeared to be of reasonably sound mind, unfortunately, I would be unable to grant your further request to have the Headship transferred to you._

_“I am deeply sorry to have to bring you this bad news, but the law is, for the time being, not in your favor. Please, do not hesitate to reach out to me if there is anything else I can assist you with. I will always remain a friend of your family. Your servant, Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic.”_

Arcturus had to read the letter twice over before he understood what he was reading. And then, he saw red.

His father “very firmly and in no uncertain terms” had said “no”. In fact, he’d refused to even discuss Arcturus with the Minister! Arcturus was frustrated. He was livid. He wanted to simultaneously throw something, hex someone, and put his fist through a wall, all at the same time. His father. His good-for-nothing, _murderer_ father, had said, “no”. Even from Azkaban prison, it seemed his father was determined to screw him over and ruin his life. Even this one thing, he wouldn’t grant. He _owed_ this to him. Years of rotting in Azkaban when he should’ve been taking care of his family, all because he was an evil, selfish bastard. Arcturus didn’t just want to hex anyone. He wanted to hex his father. He wanted to hex him and curse him and make him happy he was in his dark, dank, miserable cell in Azkaban. If he ever saw his father again, he’d punch his rotten teeth in!

But first, he had to figure out what to do now. This was supposed to have been the long shot. This had been his possible chance. He knew he shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up, but he had. And they’d been crushed with a letter and one word from his father. No.

Well Arcturus wasn’t going to take that! He would get the right response. He’d make him! As he crumbled the letter up and tossed it into the fireplace, watching it blacken into oblivion, it was clear that if he wanted anything done right, he was going to have to do it himself.

Arcturus Black, son of the mass-murderer Sirius Black, was going to have to go see his father.

The “how” of that was more questionable, and Arcturus was reluctant to make another demand of Fudge so soon after he’d obliged his last request. He racked his brain for the right answer, but was coming up short. In the end, he resigned himself to having to speak to Minister Fudge about it, and this time he’d have to go in person.

So a week later he put on one of his finer sets of robes, combed his hair, and practiced the snobby look Malfoy was so good at in the mirror. He was going to march down to the Ministry of Magic, right up to Minister Fudge, and demand a meeting. And then he was going to secure a visit to Azkaban, because _nobody_ told a Black “no”!

But he never made it. He was preparing to leave when there was an unexpected knock at the door. Uncle Marius had gone for the day, and Aunt Ariadne was once more out in her garden, so it was up to Arcturus to get the door. It was annoying that the Squibs didn’t have a house-elf or something. Surely it would’ve been even better to have around the house, considering they couldn’t just do magic.

Two grim-faced men stood at the door in Auror robes.

“Arcturus Black?” asked the taller of the two.

“Who’s asking?”

The man flashed a DMLE badge at him and said, “I’m Auror Gawain Robards, this is Auror Dawlish. We have some questions for you. Are your guardians present?”

As if like magic, but obviously not, Aunt Ariadne arrived at the door, a bit flushed from her time outside, but still rather prim and proper considering she’d been doing yard work.

“Arcturus? Who are these men?”

“Aurors Robards and Dawlish, apparently,” Arcturus replied, giving the two men the “Malfoy sneer” that he’d been practicing just moments ago. “They have some questions for me apparently.”

“In regards to?”

“Sirius Black.”

Aunt Ariadne’s mouth pursed, a normal reaction whenever his father was brought up. It wasn’t a particular topic any of them liked to discuss. But her manners and “good breeding” won out and she smiled tersely at the Aurors.

“Yes, of course, gentlemen, please come in. Arcturus, take our guests to the sitting room while I fetch us some tea.” She was away before the Aurors could say anything more, either in thanks or refusal.

The sitting room was the house’s reception area, meticulously decorated and kept in pristine condition. There was always a fire in the hearth and the chairs looked like they belonged in a palace somewhere instead of a row home in London. Arcturus flopped himself into one of the high-backed arm chairs and let the Aurors decide who would sit in the other chair and who would sit on the couch. They didn’t try to talk to him until his aunt had returned, a fine tea service laid out on a silver tray, which she placed between them all and promptly began serving from. Arcturus thought about taking tea and loudly slurping from it, but decided against the idea. Really he was more interested in why the Aurors wanted to talk to him, rather than embarrassing his aunt.

“How may we help you gentlemen?” she asked politely.

“Just a few questions, and then we’ll be on our way. Mr. Black, where were you on the afternoon of July 22nd?”

“Here, bored out of my mind.”

“Can anyone confirm that?”

“I can,” Aunt Ariadne said.

Robards made a note on a pad of paper with a Muggle pen. Interesting. Aunt Ariadne looked repulsed by the items.

“And when was the last time you had contact with your father, Sirius Black?”

“I don’t.”

“When was the last time, Mr. Black?”

“How should I know? When I was born maybe? Before he got himself chucked in Azkaban.”

“Very well. You wrote to Minister Fudge earlier this year, requesting he speak to your father. What was the reason for that request?’

Aunt Ariadne shot him a glare. She didn’t know he’d written, and he didn’t really want the Squibs knowing he was trying to get away from them right now. But he didn’t think he was going to be able to get around their questions, and honestly they’d probably read the letter already, if they were at his door.

“I wanted Minister Fudge to get my father to allow me to chose where I have to live.”

She wasn’t going to show her anger in front of the Aurors, but Arcturus knew his aunt was upset. Probably more at the fact that he’d essentially aired Black family affairs to outsiders, first the Minister and now these Aurors. And whose to say why they were even there.

“It’s not a crime to make a request, is it?” Arcturus asked flippantly.

“No,” Robards replied, “But aiding and abetting a fugitive is.”

“A fugitive?”

“Sirius Black escaped Azkaban prison on July 22nd.”

“And you think _I_ helped him?”

“Not at this time, however we have to be thorough. However, it would be best that you cancel any plans you might’ve had for international travel, and if he does try to make contact with you, you are to report him to the Auror office immediately. Otherwise you _will_ be committing a crime, do you understand?”

Arcturus did his best to look Robards in the eye and appear nothing but cool and collected. Inside his mind was racing and there was a hint of fear. Fear that his father _would_ try to make contact. He didn’t know what he’d do if that happened, but he knew one thing.

“I’m not going to do anything to help that _bastard_ ,” he declared.


	33. Wanted

Chapter 33: Wanted

His face was everywhere. Splashed across the _Daily Prophet_ almost every day, on wanted signs hanging up in every wizarding establishment. Arcturus even caught a glimpse of him on a Muggle newspaper and a television in a store window on his way to the park.

As soon as he’d known, he’d sent an owl to Remus immediately. He hadn’t received a response back yet. The Tonks were worried for him, and even wanted him to come and stay at their house the rest of the summer. Uncle Marius and Aunt Ariadne had put their feet down most firmly.

After Arcturus had been forced to out himself in front of his aunt, she’d told her husband and the two of them had him practically on lockdown. He wasn’t allowed to go anywhere, or see anyone. At least they allowed him owls, but they always wanted to see who it was addressed to and each time they saw the Tonks they pursed their lips and glared and seemed to consider whether they were willing to allow it. Uncle Marius grumbled about how much of a mistake it had been to allow him to spend so much time with the Tonks.

They weren’t angry about the fact that he didn’t want to live with them. They knew that he didn’t. He made no secret about it. What they were angry about, was that his alternative choice was a family traitor and her Muggle-born husband and his half-blood spawn.

“I should never have allowed you to spend so much time with such people. It was completely inappropriate,” Uncle Marius declared.

They kept him under close watch, but even they couldn’t watch him all the time. So he made good use of when they were distracted and slipped out of the house as often as he could. Most of the time he just went down to the park or the café where he and Remus liked to chat. He’d sit on a bench maybe and watch the Muggles. That’s where he’d first seen the Muggle news headline “Dangerous Escaped Convict at Large”. He’d waited for the Muggle to throw it in the bin and leave before he’d fished it out. There, in the non-moving black and white Muggle photo, was his father.

He looked terrible, but then twelve years in Azkaban would do that to a wizard. His face was thin and gaunt, his hair ragged and dirty. He wore Azkaban rags that hung off his frame and looked hauntingly ahead, eyes not quite focused. _This_ was the man Fudge said was of a “rather competent mind”? He looked like a deranged madman. Arcturus couldn’t help but see where there were similarities though. They had the same hair of course, and a similar nose, like most of the Black did. His eyes were different. Arcturus had his mother’s eyes, by the looks of it, though in the photo it was difficult to tell.

The article accompanying the photo was vague. It didn’t say anything about where Sirius had escaped from, or really any details about him beyond that he’d killed thirteen people and was “armed and dangerous”, whatever that was supposed to mean. All he knew was that the Ministry must be really hard up to find him, if they were telling the Muggles about him.

Arcturus was a bit disappointed that his father _hadn’t_ tried to make any contact like the Aurors had seemed to believe. There had been absolutely nothing, not even a strange owl at his window. Not even Remus had owled him, which was strange in itself. He knew he was probably busy at his job in Germany, but surely word would’ve reached him. Surely he would’ve tried to get in touch with Arcturus, if only to make sure he was okay?

The Ministry was being a pain as well. They had Aurors check on him regularly and sent owls, asking if he had any further information. Of course he didn’t! His father didn’t care about him, didn’t give one wit about him. And it was obvious that the Ministry was even tailing him. Arcturus glanced over at the man in the brimmed cap sitting on a bench across the playground, looking far too interested in his magazine that was upside down. Honestly he’d expected better.

“Wotcher, Arcturus.”

A woman he’d never met suddenly sat down on the bench next to him. He hadn’t even seen her arrive, so preoccupied as he’d been.

“Um, sorry?”

“Don’t you recognize your cousin Dora?” she asked with a conspiratorial wink. Obviously she looked nothing like Tonks with blonde hair and blue eyes and a golden tan. She reminded him a bit of a female Lockhart, actually. She wore Muggle clothes and appeared totally relaxed in the middle of the park in London.

“Of course, Dora!” he replied, playing along. “How did you—” But he stopped. Stupid question. He had an Auror trail, of course Tonks could find out where he was.

“Got them to let me tag along. Think Proudfoot is a bit sweet on me,” she said, nodding towards the wizard who was still trying to read the Muggle magazine upside down.

“Did you _Confund_ him too or something?”

“Maybe a little, but only so that he didn’t question why a stunning lady such as myself would be talking to a skinny git like you. By the way, happy belated birthday. Know you were Petrified for it, but it still counts. Fourteen this year right?”

“Yep,” he replied, making the ‘p’ pop. “Of course the Squibs are treating me like I’m six. Had to sneak out today. I’ll go mad staying in that house.”

“Mum and Dad said you got in trouble with the Squibs because of them.”

“Not in trouble, but they don’t want me spending time with you. Not that it’s going to make any difference to me. They don’t get to decide for me.”

“I didn’t expect it to. But I’m sorry we created a problem. Cheer up, though. The tail is only until you go back to Hogwarts. And I only have one more year and then I’ll be a full Auror.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder and winked at Proudfoot, who looked rather dopily at her.

“Do you have to flirt with him?” Arcturus groaned.

“All about maintaining the character,” she replied. “Anyways, you should be careful. Latest intelligence is that Black may try to break into Hogwarts this year?”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well his guards said he had a bit of a breakdown just before he escaped. Kept saying over and over ‘He’s at Hogwarts’. I don’t know if he’s talking about you or not, but you should be ready.”

Arcturus sighed. “And what if he does try to make contact with me? What should I do?”

“Officially, I’d tell you to let a teacher or the Aurors know. But, unofficially, as your cousin, all I can tell you is to be careful. There’s no telling what those dementors did to him all those years. I know he’s important to you, even though you hate him,” she added over Arcturus’s derisive snort. “But I know he’s also still your father. And correct me if I’m wrong, but he’s been on your mind a lot recently.”

She wasn’t wrong. In trying to get control of his own life, Arcturus had been forced to confront the reality of his father. When he was younger, he fancied him dead. That’s what he often told people, if only to avoid the awkward exchange that happened when they realized he was a mass-murderer. But in the last year or so, he’d had to confront the fact that not only was he not dead, but he still had very real and powerful control over Arcturus’s life. And he’d been doing his best to get rid of that, but it seemed he almost wasn’t destined to.

“I haven’t heard anything from Remus recently. I don’t even know if he’s still in Germany.”

“He’ll get back to you when he can, you know he always does. Just focus on getting through the summer safely and without being arrested.”

“No promises, on the arrested part at least.”

“Well, I have to be moving on. But I’m glad I got to talk to you. Take care of yourself.” She leaned over and placed a kiss on his cheek. Across the playground, Proudfoot looked angry. He stood and began stomping across the playground, but he almost got tangled up in the swings. His distraction gave Tonks enough time to get away and disappear into the background. By the time Proudfoot made it to where Arcturus was sitting, she was long gone and he looked around in confusion.

“Excuse me, was there not a woman just here?” he asked.

“You’re the Auror, shouldn’t you know these things?” Arcturus replied. Proudfoot did his best impression of a fish as Arcturus strolled away, feeling rather pleased with himself.

Once his Hogwarts letter arrived, Arcturus was able to argue for a trip to Diagon Alley. The Squibs could hardly deny him either, he had school supplies to purchase. His robes had grown too short, having reached the end of their built in extension charms. He also was fresh out of parchment and had plucked all of his quills out of boredom this summer. While it was acceptable to them to make him use the damaged quills at home, it was out of the question for the heir to the Black family to be using damaged quills at Hogwarts. Arcturus tried to argue that the Tonks could take him, especially since their trip had been cancelled thanks to his father’s escape. But the Squibs absolutely would not hear of it, and so Arcturus found himself walking towards Gringotts with the Squibs in tow and an Auror further behind, doing his best to follow them, without looking like he was following them. Arcturus was really going to have to speak to Rufus Scrimgeour about the proficiency of his Aurors’ stealth skills. If this was the standard, then surely Tonks couldn’t have been doing _that_ bad.

Arcturus also decided that he needed to visit his vault. He didn’t relish taking the cart down, but it was worth it as he watched the Squibs stagger off, looking decidedly green and doing their best to stand upright and proper. He took his sweet time collecting coins to get him through his purchases and the new school year. He even made a big show of counting the stacks that he had down there, knowing it was more than sufficient to last him the rest of his school days, and even well into his adulthood. The Squibs looked even worse as they stepped back out into the sun, blinking and looking around like they didn’t quite remember where they were.

“Shall we?” Arcturus said cheerfully before weaving off into the crowd. He didn’t stop or look back to see if they were keeping up with him. He didn’t acknowledge their presence even once, except the one time Uncle Marius had tried to keep him from going into the joke shop.

“What could you _possibly_ need in there?” he demanded. Arcturus had taken them around almost every shop, milking the trip for all it was worth. He’d only purchased what he’d needed, but he’d browsed through everything.

“School supplies,” he’d said simply before going in. That place the Squibs had refused to enter and so Arcturus had been able to pick up a few items at his leisure. He was just stepping out with his package tucked under his arm when he spotted someone he didn’t expect to see, eyes closed and sunning himself at a table outside Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor.

“Enjoying the nice weather, Potter?”

Harry Potter jerked awake and Arcturus thought he saw his hand head towards his pocket, likely where he kept his wand. Well at least he wasn’t completely off his guard.

“Black,” Potter greeted him. He didn’t say anything as Arcturus took the seat across from him.

“What are you doing here? Thought you had to live with the Muggles.”

Potter murmured something under his breath, but Arcturus didn’t get a chance to answer as Florean Fortescue himself arrived toting two rather large sundaes.

“On the house, of course,” he declared before winking at Potter and leaving. Arcturus snorted.

“Always get free ice cream wherever you go, eh Potter?” Still, he figured it would just go to waste, so he dug in. Peanut butter and strawberry, not bad.

“He’s just being nice,” Potter replied, defensively.

“Hey, take it easy, I was just joking,” Arcturus told him. “It’s pretty good, actually. So did you manage to ditch the Muggles?”

“Sort of,” Potter said, starting in on his own ice cream. We watched Arcturus warily, but Arcturus did his best to show him the very pictures of relaxed as he scooped some whipped cream with his finger and licked it off. He could see the Squibs across the alley, glaring at him, but they didn’t come any closer.

“I’m staying here until September 1st. Well, at the Leaky Cauldron.”

“Lucky you. I’m stuck with the Squibs the rest of the summer.” He nodded towards his aunt and uncle and Potter looked over, obviously curious, taking in their fine clothes and pinched expressions.

“They don’t look very happy.”

“I’m sure they’re not. But not like I really care.”

“I saw the articles, about your dad.”

“I imagine everyone did. It’s been a bloody nightmare. Aurors every other day at the house, following me everywhere. It’s like they think he’s just going to jump out and yell ‘Surprise!’ at me, or maybe I’ll lead them right to him. As if I’d know anything about where he was!”

“So, you don’t know anything else?”

“Nothing more than what the papers are saying.” Well, and what Tonks told him, but he didn’t want to tell Potter that. It was sort of private, and while he could admit he was on better terms with Potter after the Chamber of Secrets ordeal thanks to Hermione, he wouldn’t go so far as to call them “friends”.

“Oh.” Potter looked rather disappointed.

Arcturus decided he needed to finish up, before the Squibs got it in their heads to come over. He finished off his sundae and smacked his lips in satisfaction, making a big show of it for the Squibs’ benefit.

“Well, Potter, it’s been a pleasure. I’ll see you on the Hogwarts Express.”

“Yeah, see you.” Did Potter actually look a bit disappointed as Arcturus left? Surely not!

When they returned home, Striga was waiting for him, and she had a letter from Remus! Arcturus took it up to his room with the rest of his purchases. The packages he dumped on his bed in favour of reading the much anticipated response.

‘ _Dear Arcturus, I apologize for not writing sooner. I’m sure you can understand, between the ending of the Germany position, and then recent events, my time has been very full._

_‘I don’t know what to say about Sirius’s escape. It was as much a shock to me as you. I have not had much Auror attention, though I imagine it’s likely because I wasn’t even in the country when the escape happened. I still can’t believe he’s loose. I am very worried for you, Arcturus. You must be vigilant and not take any unnecessary risks. There is no telling what he might do._

_‘Another job has come my way, something rather unexpected and very welcome. However, I don’t wish to tell you about it via owl post. Instead, I’d like to meet with you, in our usual café on August 31 st. I know that is very close to the new term, but it is my first available date. This new job will be very demanding and I find myself needing to prepare for it already. _

_‘I hope you are well and that you are at least trying to get along with your aunt and uncle. Again, I urge you to keep yourself safe and don’t go out at night. And if you see anything suspicious, you should report it immediately. Yours, Remus.’_

Arcturus was most intrigued by Remus’s new job, and a little bored with his expressions of worry and cautions against “unnecessary risks”. It was the same thing the Tonks had all told him too. He had Aurors following him whenever he went out, surely his father wouldn’t try anything. That’s even if he wanted anything to do with Arcturus. If it were him, he’d have been long gone, maybe off to Europe or some other continent. There was no doubt in Arcturus’s mind that Sirius Black was _not_ waiting around for his son.


	34. A Professor and a Pup

Chapter 34: A Professor and a Pup

Arcturus slipped his Auror tail. It was too easy with the help of an inflatable golem that he’d purchased from Gambol and Japes. He’d made the thing look like him, dressed it up in a Muggle sweatshirt and jeans, and sent it off in the opposite direction. He’d watched carefully, making sure the Auror took the bait, before he slipped out from the back garden, Disillusioned. He wasn’t supposed to be doing magic outside of school, but who was going to report him? He was careful too, only taking off the Disillusion in a side alleyway when he was sure nobody was looking. Then he made his way down to the café to meet with Remus.

Remus was already there, beating Arcturus for once. He sat in the back and had already ordered Arcturus’s tea and a crumpet. He smiled a bit smugly as Arcturus sat down.

“It’s good to see you,” he said. “I’m sorry I’ve been absent.”

Arcturus shrugged. “Couldn’t be helped.”

“No, but I still wish that I’d been here when it happened. How are you?”

“I’m fine. Had to slip the Auror to get here, so I don’t have too much time before they realize it was a trick. Tell me about this mysterious new job. It’s not something illegal or anything right? Not that I’d really care if it was.”

“No, nothing like that. Actually Professor Dumbledore reached out to me this summer. He has been having great difficulty getting a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for you, especially given what happened to Lockhart.”

“He had it coming,” Arcturus shrugged. That the berk had tried to wipe Potter and Ron’s memories, but had the charm backfire quite spectacularly, was really just the perfect sort of karma. Arcturus heard he was now in the crazy ward at St. Mungo’s with no clue of who he was. Good riddance.

“Possibly, but apparently word is getting around that the position is cursed. Still, I guess Dumbledore thought maybe I would be interested because he offered me the job and I accepted.”

Arcturus nearly choked on the piece of crumpet he’d been chewing.

“You—you’re going—to—” He took a drink of his tea to clear things up and then practically burst out of his seat, tackling Remus in a huge hug. “This is perfect! You’re going to be our DADA professor? That’s awesome! This year is going to be the best ever just you wait! You can give Gryffindor all the points, and maybe take a bunch from Slytherin. Snape’s not going to know what hit him! I have to tell the twins, and Lee!”

Remus chuckled. “Calm down a moment. Dumbledore did ask that I keep the news quiet. With all the world focused on Sirius’s escape, it’s probably for the best.”

“Why, because you were his friend? I’m his son and that hardly matters. They’re not going to keep me from going back to Hogwarts.”

“Still, it’s best not to fan any flames. Dumbledore will make the announcement at the Welcome Feast, but I wanted you to know first. Promise me you’ll keep it between us?”

“Alright, alright, but I think you’re being silly about nothing.”

“Maybe.”

They chatted a little while longer. Remus looked just as haggard and threadbare as usual, but there was a liveliness and excitement in him that Arcturus couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen it. Remus was clearly just as excited as Arcturus for this new term, if not more so. It was perfect too. Remus had taught Arcturus plenty over the years and he was a good teacher. He’d make a great DADA professor, and it was good to have someone loyal to Gryffindor to offset Snape’s point deductions.

Arcturus had to leave far too soon, but Remus assured him they could catch up later and that he’d be welcome to join him for tea in his new office the first weekend of term.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Arcturus replied, giving him a last hug before leaving.

The sun was setting as he walked back to the Squibs’ house. He didn’t see any Aurors about, so maybe they hadn’t found him yet. Still, he slipped down the side alley to Disillusion himself again so that he could slip back into the house unnoticed. He was just taking out his wand when the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he had the distinct feeling he was being watched. He looked around suddenly, but didn’t see anything at first. Then, the shadow at the base of the wall moved.

It was a dog. The biggest, grimiest black dog Arcturus had ever seen. The thing looked absolutely pitiful. It hesitantly moved out of the shadows a bit, watching him just as warily as he was watching it. Arcturus wasn’t interested in getting bitten by a feral dog that day, and he was acutely aware that he was standing between the dog and the easy exit. Slowly, never taking his eyes off the beast, he inched to the side, trying to present an open escape route. But the dog didn’t move, didn’t even growl. It watched him, eyes never blinking, ears slightly perked.

It looked hungry. Arcturus had tucked a few biscuits in a napkin from the café and he pulled them out of his pocket, holding them out. The dog’s attention finally shifted away from him, instead landing on the biscuits. It licked its lips and inched yet closer. Arcturus didn’t dare move. He didn’t want the dog to eat out of his hand or anything ridiculous like that, but he also didn’t want to make any sudden moves and risk scaring it either. Scared, cornered dogs, tended to bite.

Slowly, he set the napkin and biscuits down on the ground, as far as he could reach, and then slowly backed up, pressing his back into the brick wall behind him. The dog watched him with wary interest, but slowly eased itself forward and gobbled up the offered biscuits. Arcturus had this one chance while it was occupied and he took it. He dashed back out of the alley and took off back towards the Squibs’ house, not caring if any Aurors saw him and not daring to look back to see if the dog was chasing him. He made it back to the door and looked around, but there was no sign of the dog. There was, however, a very annoyed Proudfoot, marching across the street.

“Where did you go?” he demanded.

“To a café,” he said, “for some tea and biscuits.” He even produced the Muggle receipt from when he’d bought another packet of biscuits for them.

“Why did you slip your security?”

“Oh, it’s security is it? I thought you just enjoyed my company.”

“Don’t be try to be smart with me boy. One word and I’ll have you hauled in for questioning. Why did you slip your security?”

“I just wanted to be alone without anyone _watching_ me,” he growled. “Your Aurors suck at being invisible.”

“They’re there for your protection, not to be invisible. You’re lucky you’re going back to school tomorrow, otherwise I’d report this to Scrimgeour and put you in custody.”

“But you won’t, because then you have to admit to your boss that a fourteen year-old got away from his highly-trained Aurors. And you don’t want to do that, do you?”

Proudfoot sputtered as Arcturus gave him his best grin. “Well, goodnight Auror Proudfoot. I’d say it’s been a pleasure, but it really hasn’t.” He stepped inside, leaving Proudfoot still fuming on the porch. The Squibs were just as angry too, but again, not because he might’ve put his safety at risk. They couldn’t bear the possibility of _two_ convicts in the family. Arcturus ignored them and marched up to his room, slamming the door and hanging a charm on the handle that kept them from being able to open it. It was a handy item he’d gotten on his first visit to Gambol and Japes. Such a treasure, that shop. He thought about Remus’s new job and Proudfoot’s stupid face when Arcturus had left him speechless to keep his spirits up, despite everything else.

As he packed his trunk for the train tomorrow, he couldn’t help but think about the mangy dog he’d seen on his way home. He did feel sorry for the beast, and a bit regretful that he hadn’t tried to do more to help it. So maybe he had a bit of a soft spot for animals like that. He knew what it was to be the unwanted one. He thought about trying to slip out to find it tonight, maybe see if he could clean it up and give it a proper meal. But the stray was sure to be long gone, and he didn’t want to risk Proudfoot actually following through with his threat if he went out without the Aurors again. He was off to Hogwarts tomorrow with Remus, ready to leave all this behind. The dog looked scrapy enough, it’d be fine. And at least he’d given it a few biscuits to hold it over.

That night he dreamed of a playful, scruffy black puppy licking his face and nipping at his fingers.


	35. Dementors

Chapter 35: Dementors

The train felt absolutely packed, even more than usual. As Arcturus, Fred, George, and Lee looked around for a compartment, and had to go nearly to the back of the train to find one, they complained about the rather large influx of first-years.

“I swear, the buggers multiply,” Fred grumbled, tossing his trunk onto the rack and flopping down on the bench with a loud sigh.

“Well, a lot of people were probably _very_ happy the war was over, twelve years ago,” Lee shrugged with a little smirk. His three friends looked at him in shock and Fred’s eye actually twitched before they broke out into wild laughter.

“I didn’t know you had it in you, Lee,” Fred declared, swiping tears from his eyes as he gasped for breath.

Lee shrugged, but he never lost his smug grin as he sat down. “So, how upset was your mum that you didn’t make prefect?”

“Oh _terribly_ disappointed,” George replied.

“Had truly been hoping we might follow in the family tradition,” Fred added.

“Can’t imagine why, with how many detentions we’ve gotten!”

“You turds would be pants as prefects anyways,” Arcturus said. “Taking points of Slytherins for breathing funny, all while teaching the first-years the best technique for dung bomb tossing.”

“All in the wrist,” George said, very solemnly, demonstrating the motion. “Maximize distance and height for a longer getaway.”

“By the way, what do you lot think of those new Care of Magical Creatures books, eh?” Lee asked. He thumped his foot against his trunk, which rattled and growled before settling down after a moment.

Arcturus cringed, remembering having to _buy_ the damned thing. The shop assistant at Flourish and Blotts already had a chunk missing from the back of his robes as he’d put on dragon-hide gloves and took some deep, fortifying breaths as he prepared to retrieve a book from the iron cage they were displayed in.

 _The Monster Book of Monsters_ , what are terribly clever name, for an ultimately barmy concept. The books were terrors, snapping their covers at anyone who tried to get close and there were more than a few torn pages littering the bottom of the cage where they’d clearly tried to _eat_ each other. The shop assistant had managed to wrangle one into submission, pinning it to a heavy wooden table.

“Belt! BELT!” he shrieked as the book bucked and snapped like a wild animal. Arcturus had been confused, but he quickly handed over the belt off his jeans and the shop assistant managed to loop it over the books jaws and pull it tight, muzzling the beast.

“Done this a few times, have you?” Arcturus commented.

“Whichever Hogwarts professor requested this book, I’d very much like to hex him,” was all the shop assistant said. The book nearly wriggled out of Arcturus’s hands as it was handed over, but it quieted down after a few moments.

The belt was still looped around the book in Arcturus’s trunk. He desperately hoped their Care of Magical Creatures instructor would first teach them how to care for their textbook first.

“I would very much like to shake Kettleburn’s hand,” said Fred. “Playing a prank like that, on the entire school! The man has _style_ , even if he’s missing about half his limbs at this point.”

Lee shook his head. “No, didn’t you hear? Kettleburn lost half of his last leg this summer. He’s decided to retire. They’ve gotten someone else.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. Dad says Dumbledore’s been rather quiet about his teaching appointments this year. More than he has in the past anyways.”

“Maybe it’s a vampire or something,” said George.

“Or a werewolf!” Fred added, howling in Arcturus’s ear.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Arcturus said, shoving him back towards his side of the compartment. “I don’t really care who it is, as long as it’s not another _Lockhart_.”

They all groaned in agreement, remembering the disaster that had been Defence Against the Dark Arts the year before.

The food trolley came around and they bought some sweets and Fred and George pulled out the sandwiches Mrs. Weasley had made them, splitting them with Arcturus and Lee. Arcturus did his best to chew and swallow, even though egg and cress was not his preferred sandwich. Normally he’d just turn it down, but he knew Mrs. Weasley usually gave Fred and George some extras for him and Lee and it felt rude to refuse, considering the Weasleys didn’t exactly have a lot of extra to go around. Well, at least before they won the _Daily Prophet_ Grand Prize Galleon Draw.

“Egypt was superb!” George said. “Bill’s really doing some interesting stuff down there. You wouldn’t believe the sort of stuff these ancient wizards put on their treasure.”

“Makes some of our work look pitiful,” Fred added. “Percy found out he was Head Boy right before we left, so of course the git was wearing the pin the whole time.”

“We tried to lock him in a tomb, but mum caught us.” George winced as he thought of the tongue-lashing they’d received over that little incident.

“I still don’t know why mum was so upset,” said Fred. “We would’ve let him out eventually, right before we had to leave.”

“You know, we never really thought of Bill as ‘cool’, you seeing as he was Head Boy too and all. But he’s got an earring now, and he’s growing his hair longer, and he’s actually really good with this Cursebreaking stuff.”

“Even if he looked like a lobster from all the sun.”

“Tried to get Mum and Dad to buy us new brooms with some of the extra galleons, but they wouldn’t. Said they had to buy a new wand for Ronniekins, since he broke his old one last year.”

Arcturus thought it was actually rather fortunate Ron _had_ broken his old wand. Lockhart’s memory charm might’ve actually worked if he hadn’t been doing it with that busted wand, causing it to backfire.

“How was your summer, Archie boy?” Fred asked. “You’ve been rather quiet. Ow!”

George suddenly smacked him, giving his brother a pointed look. The generally easy-going atmosphere in the compartment took a more solemn turn as everyone realized what they were going to talk about.

“Well, my father broke out of prison,” Arcturus said, doing his best to try to sound nonchalant about the whole thing. Having had a month and a half to get used to the idea, he could talk about it a bit easier now. He’d have to because no doubt there would be plenty around Hogwarts who were talking about it.

“Sorry, you don’t have to talk about it,” Fred said, looking chastised.

“No, it’s fine. He broke out and the Aurors questioned me and then put me under ‘protection’, but really it was more like house arrest. We had to cancel our plans for the trip to America. And I couldn’t go anywhere without one of them following me.”

“They still don’t know anything more?” Lee asked quietly.

“They don’t even know how he _did_ it. They’re completely clueless. But…” He hesitated, unsure if he should even be sharing the intel that Tonks had given him. But these were his friends, and really, they deserved to know what they were getting into as well.

“The Aurors think he might be after me. Tonks said he kept repeating ‘He’s at Hogwarts’, right before he broke out.”

There was a moment of silence as the others took in the information.

“Well,” said Lee, “You are his son. I mean, wouldn’t you want to see your son, if it was you in his place?”

“A son I didn’t even care about enough _not_ to murder thirteen people and get myself tossed in Azkaban?”

“I’m sorry, mate. I know it’s hard for you.”

“He can go to hell for all I care,” Arcturus grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and sinking back into his seat.

“Dad said that they’re stationing dementors at Hogwarts, around all the grounds,” said Fred. “This must be why.”

“Are they insane?” Lee demanded. “Dementors? At a school?”

“They’re horrible. Fred, you remember how dad was when he came back from that visit to Azkaban.”

Fred nodded. “Pale and clammy, shaking too. Mom gave him chocolate to try to make him feel better. But he still wasn’t quite right the rest of the week. And he was there with protection.”

It’d started raining as they’d left London behind and only grew heavier as the train continued north towards Hogwarts. They tried to keep the conversation on lighter topics for a while, talking about their plans for all sorts of pranks that year.

“We’ve been working on a few products of our own in our bedroom,” George admitted.

“Nothing much,” Fred added. “But you remember those toffees from last year. They really got us thinking.”

The twins started in on all the ideas they’d had, and a few of the ones they’d experimented with. Perfecting the toffees, and maybe a better sort of firework that Dr. Filibuster’s.

“Not that the man isn’t genius,” said George. “But the effects stage is rather…”

“Tame,” finished Fred.

“If we can—”

Unexpectedly, the train rattled and they could hear the screech of the brakes as it started to slow. They all looked out the window, but they couldn’t see much through the darkness that had fallen. Certainly they weren’t to Hogsmeade yet. The wind and rain buffeted the train as they came to a sudden halt with a jolt and Fred’s and Arcturus’s trunks fell out of the luggage racks.

Arcturus yelped as Fred’s trunk landed on his foot. Then suddenly all the lanterns went out and they were plunged into darkness.

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know!”

“Ow! Stupid trunk!”

“Arcturus are you okay?”

“No, the damn thing landed on my foot!”

“Alright just, hold on. George, help me get this off.”

“Where is it? Alright, found it.”

A moment later the weight came off Arcturus’s battered foot and he gasped, pulling it back. The pain was intense as he tried to move it.

“Hang on, _Lumos._ ”

A pale, white light filled the space from George’s wand tip. Fred’s trunk now sat on it’s end from where he and Fred had moved it. Arcturus was hunched in the corner, cradling his injured foot and grimacing in pain. Lee stood to look out the compartment window, but it was hard to see anything with the glare of the light on the glass.

“I think it’s dark everywhere on the train,” he said. “What’s _happening_?”

“I don’t think it’s broken,” Arcturus hissed.

“Hang on, I got you, mate,” said Fred, He crouched in front of Arcturus and ran his wand down the length of his injured foot. Where it went, a soothing numbness followed, chasing away some of the pain. Arcturus sighed in relief.

“You should keep the show on,” Lee said. “Keep the swelling down until it can get looked at.” He frowned a moment, then pulled his hand back from the door suddenly. All four boys watched in confusion as frost formed where Lee’s hand had just been, and then continued to travel up the glass, covering the whole door. The temperature in the room seemed to drop and they could see their freezing breath in the air. An ominous sort of dread fell over the compartment and Arcturus and Lee backed away from the door as far as they could. Everyone had their wands at the ready, eyes on the door as a shadow moved behind the frosted glass. As if of it’s own accord, the door slid open, revealing a dark figure, shrouded in a tattered black cloak.

They couldn’t see it’s face, but there was a raspy sort of sucking sound and Arcturus felt fear and sadness overcome him. He remembered his mother’s death, the day he’d found her dead, her skin tinged a sickly green and red and purple pox dotting her once beautiful face. She’d been stuck in the grip of her last breath, eyes wide, mouth gaping as she’d struggled to inhale. There had been scorch marks all across her pillow. Her skin had been too cold as he’d pushed her, trying to jolt her awake.

“Mum? Mum, please wake up? Mum I’ve got your soup, just wake up!”

He’d never known that it had become so bad. She’d hid as many of her symptoms as she could, especially once Arcturus himself had started getting better, even when she did not. He’d done what he could to take care of her, but there was only so much a boy of nine could do. He should’ve called the Healer right away, especially when the green had set in. He should’ve urged her to drink her soup and rest more. Maybe if he’d saved some of the potions from his own illness, she could’ve drank those and gotten better.

He sobbed as he sunk into the corner, folding in on himself as the grief and sorrow threatened to overwhelm him. He hadn’t felt like this in years, not since that day, when the _Vrajitorii_ had found him, whimpering at his mother’s bed side, her cold hand clutched in his.

The feelings were so intense, and then they started to ease. Arcturus opened his eyes, blinking as he looked around. The light from George’s wand had gone out, but the room no longer felt as cold and the horrible rattling breaths were gone.

“ _L-Lumos_ ,” he said through a tear-choked throat. Light filled the room once more and he could see that they were alone again. The others weren’t much better off than him, arms tucked around themselves. Lee was shivering and Fred and George were clutching each other’s hand like it was a lifeline.

“That was—”

He didn’t have to say it. They all were thinking it. A dementor had come into their compartment. Even though the sorrow had abated, Arcturus still felt a bone-chilling cold like nothing he’d ever felt before. He felt weak and his own hand shook as he held his wand. It had been worse than terrible. It had been soul-crushing. He’d been forced to relive something he had tried to bury in the deepest recesses of his mind, locked away to never be remembered again. His mother’s death was the worst thing that had ever happened to him.

Slowly they started to move again, though nobody was really in any sort of mood to talk. They shifted back into their seats, eyes always darting to the door at the slightest noise. Then, suddenly, the lights came back on and Arcturus was able to extinguish his wand. A few moment later, they heard the rumble of the engine and the train started moving forward again, leaving the terrible ordeal behind.

Arcturus couldn’t help but think of his father in that moment. That is what Sirius Black had felt every day, every minute, for the last twelve years. Fudge had seemed to think he was rather sane, but Arcturus couldn’t imagine how. If he’d been forced to relive his worst memories over and over again like that, he would go mad.

There was a knock at the door and all the boys jumped, but as the door slid open, Arcturus relaxed.

“Remus.”

He hopped up and his injured foot reminded him that wasn’t a great idea. He winced, hissing as he sank back into his chair.

Remus looked worried. “Arcturus, are you alright?”

“Trunk fell on my foot,” he muttered, taking a few deep breaths through the pain.

“Let me see it.”

Remus knelt at his feet, untying his trainer and removing it as gingerly as possible.

“Guys, you all remember me telling you about Remus,” Arcturus said through gritted teeth. Fred’s numbing charm was just not keeping the pain at bay as Remus removed his sock and revealed a very purple and swollen foot.

The twins and Lee murmured recognition and greetings, watching the process with fascination.

“This is probably broken,” Remus declared. “I’m a fair hand at healing charms, but bones are not my specialty. I think Madam Pomfrey is needed for this. In the meantime, let’s immobilize it and I can help with the pain.”

He pointed his wand at Arcturus’s injured foot and muttered “ _Immobulus”_. The whole foot and ankle suddenly froze up and Arcturus couldn’t have flexed it if he tried. It was followed by another numbing charm, this one a little bit stronger than Fred’s and it left Arcturus with the strange feeling like he had a club foot. He couldn’t feel anything past his upper shin. They put his sock and shoe back on, though there was no tying the laces.

“I’ll send a message head to the school. Are the rest of you alright?”

They replied affirmatively, even though there was still a lingering coldness in their bones.

“You all should eat some chocolate; it’ll help with the effects of the dementor. I need to go up and have a word with the driver and then send an owl on to the school. Don’t try to walk around on that foot too much. The charms won’t last forever.”

He turned to go, but Arcturus stopped him. “Are _you_ alright?”

“Yes, I think so. Another student had a rather strong reaction to the dementor when it came into our compartment. But I think he’ll be okay. I’ll see you boys at the Welcome Feast.”

He left, closing the compartment door behind him.

“So, that’s the Remus you’re always talking about,” Fred said.

“Wasn’t what I was expecting,” said George.

Arcturus scrounged around in his bag and found two chocolate frogs. He split them and handed out the pieces. The moment the chocolate hit his tongue, he felt a warmth sweep through is body, chasing away the lingering cold. The twins and Lee also looked much better, some colour coming back into their faces.

“Huh, who’d have thought?” said Lee. “I think I’ll try to use this as an excuse to just eat sweets the next time I’m sick.”

“I think it only works on dementors, mate,” said Arcturus.

“Sure, but my Mum doesn’t have to know that. What’s Remus doing on the Hogwarts Express anyways?”

“Dumbledore’s making him the new DADA professor. But it’s supposed to be some big secret.”

“No way! Really?”

“That’s awesome, mate!” said George.

“We’re going to get away with so much stuff this year!” crowed Fred.

Arcturus thought about telling them the best part, that Remus was one of the original Marauders, but he thought better of it. Fred and George practically worshiped the Marauders and their rather ingenious Map. Arcturus didn’t know if they’d be all that happy learning that Remus, the quiet, shabbily-dressed wizard they’d just met, was actually the famous Moony. He wasn’t exactly much to look at, even if he was still a good wizard.


	36. A New Defence

Chapter 36: A New Defence

Madam Pomfrey had wanted to keep Arcturus in the hospital wing for his first night in Hogwarts. Arcturus had argued _strongly_ against and, since she’d been able to fix up his broken foot in a jiffy, she’d begrudgingly acquiesced, with the promise that he’d rest his foot not engage in “start of term frivolities” in the Gryffindor common room that night. He’d agreed.

“Well at least you did the right thing in not trying to fix it yourself,” she muttered as she removed the Freezing charm.

“Professor Lupin helped me,” Arcturus admitted.

“And the chocolate too? Good to finally have a man who knows his stuff.”

Unfortunately, all of it meant that he missed the Welcome Feast. He’d wanted to welcome Remus and had been most looking forward to stuffing his face. At least the house-elves had provided him with a decently good spread in the hospital wing and Madam Pomfrey had insisted he eat a bunch more chocolate because of the dementor, even though he’d already had some on the train.

The twins and Lee met him on the way up to the common room and filled him in.

“Dumbledore warned everyone about the dementors. Told us not to go near them or try to mess with them. Especially you,” Fred said.

“Why me?”

“Because they just might think you’re Sirius,” George said, grinning.

Arcturus rolled his eyes.

“And Hagrid is going to be teaching Care of Magical Creatures,” Lee added.

“Hagrid, really?” Arcturus was all for Remus’s appointment, but Hagrid was the school’s _gamekeeper_. He hadn’t even finished his Hogwarts education, he’d been expelled. “Guess they really couldn’t find any else.”

“I think he’ll be alright,” said George. “Charlie says he knows a lot about creatures, even if maybe he has a bit of a skewed idea of what’s ‘dangerous’. He never talks about it, but there was some sort of incident with a dragon a couple years ago.”

“Great, now _we’re_ going to be the ones losing hands and feet.”

“Speaking of feet, how’s yours?” Fred asked.

“Totally fine,” Arcturus replied, hopping up the next few steps.

That night, Arcturus kept his promise and didn’t engage in “frivolities”. Well, at least he didn’t rock out too hard to the Weird Sisters when Joe McGee brought out his Wizard Wireless. And when Katie Bell tried to get him to dance with her, he told her he couldn’t, Madam Pomfrey’s orders.

The next morning at breakfast, Arcturus and Lee were thrilled to find out that they had Remus’s class first thing that morning.

“Aw! We’ve got History of Magic!” George complained.

Arcturus and Lee finished their breakfasts quickly and hurried off to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. As a result, they were the first ones there, except for Remus who was already at his desk.

“Good morning Re—I mean, Professor Lupin,” Arcturus said with a grin.

“Good morning Arcturus, Lee.”

They took seats right at the front as other students began to trickle in. The Gryffindors had this class with the Ravenclaws. The other students weren’t as enthusiastic as Arcturus. They looked over the room warily, but Remus hadn’t really done anything to personalize the classroom yet.

“Good morning, class,” Remus said when the last of them arrived. He stood and closed the door with a wave of his wand. “Welcome to Defence Against the Dark Arts. Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but your instruction in this subject has been very haphazard the last few years, yes?”

A few murmured “yes” and there were a couple of snorts as they recalled the disaster that was Lockhart.

“Yes. Well, typically this year is used to introduce you to some of the nastier hexes and curses you might come across and the best ways to defend against them. But I thought for this first class we could have a little fun, and give you a chance to show me what you’ve learned. So, everybody up!”

There was a scraping of chairs and murmured questions as the class got up and moved to the front of the classroom. With a great sweep of Remus’s wand, all the desks and chairs marched to the far wall and stacked themselves neatly out of the way.

“At least he _seems_ competent,” Arcturus heard one of the Ravenclaw boys mutter to his friend.

“Right then, show of hands, and you won’t lose any points for your answers, rest assured, who has been in a duel?”

There was a moment of hesitation, but then most of the class raised their hands.

Remus smiled, amused. “Yes, I went here too, I know how things go. Who won their duel?”

A number lowered their hands, cheeks colouring, while the ones who kept their hands raised looked around the room, chests puffed up in their pride and superiority.

“We shall see. Today is the day you get to hex a teacher.”

The class burst into excited conversation, some a bit uncertain and a couple smirking mischievously. Remus held up his hands for quiet and he was given it rather quickly.

“You’ll each get a chance to duel me. You’ll have thirty seconds to get off five spells. Try not to use anything that will damage me too much. Anyone who scored a hit will earn ten points for their house, but be warned, I hit back.” Remus chuckled and Arcturus knew his friend well enough to be wary of the small smile on his face. “Form a line against the wall!”

They rushed to get in line and Arcturus found himself sort of near the front. Remus beckoned the first student up and they faced each other in the centre of the room. They saluted and bowed, like they’d been taught in the Duelling Club. Arcturus thought it was a little silly. In a real fight, nobody was waiting for the other guy to _bow_.

“One—Two—Three!”

The first few students didn’t even get close. They’d always get off their first spell, but Remus would throw up a shield, and then he’d retaliate. More than a few of them were forced to dive out of the way. A couple tried a shield charm of their own, to varying degrees of success. Arcturus watched them and tried to plan his own attack. Remus had taught him a lot of what he knew about countering hexes and jinxes. He’d have to be creative, if he was going to score points for Gryffindor.

Soon it was Arcturus’s turn and nobody had yet earned any points. He stepped up and faced off, bowing like he was supposed to. Even as Remus counted down, Arcturus’s first spell was on his tongue.

“ _Displodo_!”

Firecrackers shot out of the end of his wand, flying every which way, setting off bright explosions and loud whistles and bangs. And then Arcturus was moving. He didn’t wait to see if his jinx had caught Remus off guard as he’d hoped. He was already pointing his wand at the books in the case against the wall.

“ _Oppugno_ ,” he muttered, and the books leapt off the shelf whizzing towards Remus. Remus had to put up a shield to defend himself. But he still got off a spell and Arcturus dived and rolled away from the blue hex as it crackled over his head and dissipated against the far wall. He was barely on his feet when he had to move again. Remus fired off a series of spells, trying to close the distance between them.

“ _Flipendo!”_ he cried. It didn’t hit Remus, but it made him stop, just long enough to block the jinx and draw down his shield to fire off a Disarming charm.

“ _Protego!”_ Arcturus thrust his wand out in front of him, flat and the red magic dissipated on the shield, but shattered it too, causing Arcturus to stumble back. Remus was stronger than him, magically. And he was more experienced. So he had to end this now, and he only had two more spells. He needed to get this right.

Arcturus gathered up as much energy as he could and channelled it down his wand. “ _EXPELLIARMUS!”_

The Disarming charm was not inherently dangerous, but it grew stronger the more power you put into it and could even knock the other wizard back if it was powerful enough. But Arcturus wasn’t hoping to overpower Remus. He knew the giant red ball of magical fury would distract and force Remus to use a Shield charm again. A second after, he murmured “ _Locomotor Wibbly_ ” under his breath. Remus never even saw it.

He blocked the Disarming charm as expected, and lowered his shield to counter. The second he did, the Jelly-Legs Jinx hit. Remus collapsed onto his rear and the class gasped. He looked amused as he tried to stand and his legs flopped out from under him. Everybody laughed as Remus made a good show of it before finally muttering the counter-jinx.

“Excellent! Ten points to Gryffindor! Alright, who can tell me what Arcturus did that made him so effective? Lee?”

“He moved around a lot.”

“Indeed he did. He made himself a much harder target by constantly being on the move. Five points to Gryffindor. What else? Eddie?”

“He used spells to distract you, like the Cracker Jinx, and Oppugno.”

“Very effectively, I might add! Five points to Ravenclaw. What else, Cho?”

“He timed his spell, so that your Shield would be down.”

“Five points to Ravenclaw. Yes, a nice bit of trickery, slipping that Jelly-Legs Jinx under my defences. That was an excellent duel, Arcturus.”

He shook Arcturus’s hand. “You must’ve had a good teacher,” he murmured.

“He was alright,” Arcturus replied, grinning.

“Next up! Let’s see if you can apply what we just saw.”

The others tried, to varying degrees of success. More than a few tried the same sequence as Arcturus, but Remus wasn’t going to be fooled the same way twice. But Lee managed to earn himself ten points with a rebounded Tickling Hex, and Chang and Carmichael earned points for Ravenclaw too.

By the end of class, the students spilled out into the rest of the school absolutely buzzing, laughing and retelling the funnier moments. It was official, Professor Lupin was a hit! Lee and Arcturus told Fred and George all about it and the twins complained that they hadn’t been there.

“Maybe he’ll do that in our class too?” George hoped.

After that, the rest of the day was downright _boring_ , until they heard the rumours from Care of Magical Creatures at dinner that night.

“And then the hippogriff reared up and slashed him with its talons,” Seamus Finnegan said, causing many of the listening Gryffindors to gasp.

“Don’t get me wrong, Malfoy deserved it,” he added.

“But I doubt his father will see it that way,” Arcturus muttered to Lee and the twins.

“Hope Hagrid will be alright,” George said, frowning. “Do you think they’ll try to remove him?”

“For an accident?” said Arcturus. “How many times have there been accidents in Potions or something? Nah, he’ll be fine.”


	37. Creatures of the Forest

Chapter 37: Creatures of the Forest

As it turned out, Hagrid _wasn’t_ fine. The news was quickly all over the school. Malfoy’s father was calling for the hippogriff’s death and Hagrid’s immediate removal. Hagrid _wasn’t_ removed of course, likely thanks to Dumbledore’s intervention. But Care of Magical Creatures took a decidedly _boring_ turn all at once and Arcturus and Lee found themselves feeding mealworms to a blue-feathered jobberknoll one afternoon, the Friday before Halloween. The school was abuzz of course. The first Hogsmeade weekend was on Halloween, and then there was sure to be the customary feast in the evening. Arcturus, Lee, and the twins had been making their common room party plans all week, slowly bringing things through the Honeydukes tunnel in the dead of night when everyone was asleep. The Marauder’s Map had been very useful in avoiding patrolling professors and prefects.

“This is boring,” Lee groaned, setting another mealworm on the jobberknoll’s perch.

“You think these things really shout everything they’ve ever heard, right before they die?” Arcturus asked. That was what their _Monster Book of Monsters_ said about them. The jobberknoll hadn’t issued even a peep the entire time. Supposedly, it wouldn’t until the moment before it’s death, when it would then repeat everything it had ever heard.

Lee shrugged.

Arcturus glanced around, but Hagrid was occupied elsewhere. He leaned closer to the little bird and murmured, “Draco Malfoy thinks he’s a pretty pink princess.”

Lee choked on his laughter, but leaned in closer and whispered, “Snape likes to dance around in his underpants and sing showtunes.”

“The Dark Lord was so angry because he was so constipated!”

They stifled their laughter, tossing mealworms on the perch. The jobberknoll must’ve thought Christmas was coming early, with how much food it was getting! It reached down and gobbled up two mealworms at once. Arcturus and Lee didn’t notice the little bird was doing a strange sort of silent heaving until quite suddenly a cacophony of sounds and voices screeched from the little creature.

It was an uproar as everyone in the class turned to watch the little bird, absolutely frantic as it let loose every sound it had ever heard. The cries of other birds, the shouts of centaurs, students complaining about homework, teachers complaining about students, all the sounds of the school and Forbidden Forest, all tied up into one continuous screech as the bird flapped its wings and jumped around, growing more and more frantic in a storm of sounds and blue feathers flying everywhere.

And then, all at once, echoing out over the clearing like the disembodied voice of some great deity, “DRACO MALFOY THINKS HE’S A PRETTY PINK PRINCESS, SNAPE LIKES TO DANCE AROUND IN HIS UNDERPANTS AND SING SHOWTUNES, THE DARK LORD WAS SO ANGRY BECAUSE HE WAS SO CONSTIPATED!” And with that final death throe, the jobberknoll keeled over and was still.

Half the class burst out laughing while the other half seemed uncertain if they should, considering the poor animal was dead. Arcturus and Lee were looking at each other absolutely stunned.

“Merlin! It worked!” Arcturus breathed. Hagrid came over and gingerly picked up the stiff little bird in his giant hands, looking like he was on the verge of crying.

“I—I think it started choking, Hagrid,” Lee said. “We’re really sorry. We didn’t know what to do.”

“It’s alright, Lee. These little guys are so fragile sometimes. Class dismissed!”

Arcturus actually felt kind of bad as he watched Hagrid cradle the dead bird to his chest and take it away.

“You go, I’ll catch up,” he told Lee, before following after Hagrid. They moved deeper into the forest, but Arcturus didn’t go to catch up with him. He kind of felt guilty over the bird. It’s not like they’d _meant_ to kill the thing, it choked. But, maybe they could’ve paid a little more attention?

Hagrid kept going and Arcturus paused as the trees were getting thicker. He hadn’t really been in the Forbidden Forest before, despite the reputation that he and the Weasley twins liked to use the forest as a personal hangout. There was said to be all sort of dark creatures running around. Ron Weasley had told them about this nest of giant spiders, and Arcturus knew their were centaurs, and probably vampires and maybe even werewolves. He reached into his robe to pull out his wand, but when he looked up, Hagrid was gone.

Every way he looked, he didn’t see the groundskeeper. How could he have just disappeared like that? He was enormous! All the trees looked the same around him, to the point that Arcturus wasn’t really sure which way they’d been going, or which way he’d come from. Panic welled up and he jumped at the crack of a twig, turning and pointing his wand.

It was a dog. No, it wasn’t _a_ dog, it was _the_ dog, the giant, black one he’d seen in London. It was unmistakable, the mangy dark fur, the thin form, the desperate, hungry look in its eyes. But, how could it possibly be here, in the Forbidden Forest of all places?

“Stop! Don’t come any closer!” he growled, pointing his wand with two hands at the thing. He felt stupid, talking to a dog, but there was something strange about this dog. Clearly it had to be magical in nature, if it found him first in London, and now here. There was no way a normal dog would’ve followed him all the way to Scotland, for Merlin’s sake! Arcturus desperately tried to wrack his brain for some hint at _what_ it might be, but he couldn’t think of any magical creature that fit this description.

The dog watched him a moment, then sat down on its skinny haunches, its tail thumping softly on the ground. Its tongue lolled out and Arcturus swore if a dog could smile, it was. Arcturus didn’t lower his wand as he took steps back, hoping he was going in the right direction back towards the school. The dog whimpered suddenly and Arcturus tensed, a hex on his tongue. But the dog simply laid down and rolled over, still watching him, but now clearly showing it’s belly. Was it _, begging for bell rubs_? The whole thing was utterly ridiculous! Some sort of magical dog was begging him for belly rubs in the middle of the Forbidden Forest.

Arcturus forced himself to relax a bit, but he never took his wand away. The dog seemed to notice, however, and it rolled back over, giving a playful sort of yip and turning a circle in excitement. Arcturus bent down, picked up a stick off the ground, and lobbed it as far as he could away from him. The dog watched the stick go up, and land on the ground without even so much as a step in that direction. It looked back at Arcturus as if to say “what was that for?”

 _‘Okay, definitely not a normal dog,’_ Arcturus thought. He had to get back. Lee and the others would be wondering where he was. Hell, Arcturus was wondering where he was.

“You don’t happen to know the way back, do you?” he asked the dog sarcastically.

Surprisingly, the dog’s ears perked up and it gave an excited yip before trotting off to the right, definitely not the way Arcturus had originally planned to go. When he didn’t follow the dog, it stopped, looked back a moment, before barking again and turning an impatient circle. Arcturus had seen enough Muggle dog movies to know that was the universal dog sign for “follow me, idiot!”.

“What the hell,” he muttered, and took off after the dog. It kept out ahead of him, trotting along and stopping when Arcturus got too far behind. After a moment, it seemed like the forest was brightening, sun penetrating the leaves more frequently. Then he recognized a low stone wall that they often followed to the Care of Magical Creatures clearing and Arcturus knew he was back. The dog seemed to know too, as it sat down, it’s tail thumping rhythmically on the leaves. Arcturus paused to rifle through his rucksack, looking for that packet of pumpkin pasties he’d intended for an afternoon snack. He could do without it though, this guy clearly needed it more than him and he’d earned it. The dog licked its lips as Arcturus ripped open the packaging and lobbed one of the pasties towards the dog. It jumped up and snapped the food out of the air, barely taking two chomps before swallowing it. Then it looked at the other one in Arcturus’s hand expectantly.

“Alright, you greedy thing,” he muttered, before lobbing the other pasty. Surely in the forest the dog could find _something_ to eat. Rabbits, squirrels, stuff of that nature. It was big enough! But the dog looked like it hadn’t eaten much since that night in London, and the way it sniffed in his direction, clearly looking for more, Arcturus knew that he was going to have to do something himself.

“I’ll bring you more stuff later,” he grumbled. “Just, meet me here tomorrow night, alright?”

He didn’t know if the dog understood him, but it gave a little yip like it did before trotting off back into the forest. It was the strangest creature he’d ever met, and Arcturus knew he needed to figure out what it was. At the least, he needed to know if it was dangerous. Looked like he was off to the library this evening.

Arcturus was just making it back to the castle for supper when he ran into Remus.

“Good evening, Arcturus,” he said.

“Remus,” he greeted. “That was a great class this week, on shield charms. I didn’t even think about using them like that, sort of quicker and smaller.”

“Yes, they can be most useful, but like we saw, they require a great deal of precision.”

“And knowing what’s coming at you,” Arcturus added. “I’ll probably try it out a bit. You think maybe we can get in some practice next weekend?”

Remus frowned, “I’m not sure there will be time. Isn’t the first Quidditch match this Saturday?”

“Oh, we can just do it after. I’m sure they’ll whip those snakes. Malfoy couldn’t catch a Snitch even sitting right by his head.” That had been a rather sweet source of bragging for the Gryffindors after last year’s game, once they’d been sure Harry wasn’t going to lose his arm from Lockhart’s ineptitude.

“Perhaps then,” Remus conceded. He looked tired. He had filled out a bit with the Hogwarts food, but not nearly as much as Arcturus had thought he would. And he seemed a bit drawn, his breathing heavier than usual as they climbed the stairs of the front entrance and joined the rest of the school in the Great Hall for supper. Well, Arcturus joined them. Remus paused at the entrance and made some sort of excuse about needing to stop by his office first before heading off. Arcturus thought he was acting rather strangely, but he didn’t want to really pry. Remus didn’t like it when Arcturus tried to pry too much. They’d had a few spats over the years because of it.

Arcturus joined Lee and the twins at the Gryffindor table, frowning as he sat down. Lee gave him a curious look as if to as “is everything alright?”. Arcturus shook his head in reply to say “don’t worry about it”. Lee shrugged and went back to his food. Arcturus didn’t really want to talk to his friends about the dog in the forest, or his concerns over Remus. It was sort of personal, and while he certainly counted them as his best friends, he didn’t feel like he was the type to share just _anything_ with people. Sometimes it was better to just keep things to yourself, at least until you figured things out.

“I’m going to head off to the library to study,” he told them after dinner, peeling off from the main group on the way back up to Gryffindor tower before they could ask any more questions. It was Friday night, so the library wasn’t going to be very full and Arcturus wanted to see if he could figure out what that dog was before he met it again the next night.

Fortunately the library was just about empty when he arrived, but he was surprised to see Potter sitting in the corner, head bent over his parchment and quill scratching listlessly over the page. Arcturus had done enough boring essays to recognize when someone else was doing one. He didn’t know what led him to do it, but before he knew it, Arcturus’s feet were taking him across the library to stand right in front of Potter.

“History of Magic, or Potions?”

Potter looked up, surprised. “Divination,” he said tentatively.

Arcturus grimaced. “Never took it. Don’t really believe in that nonsense. Mum said she had a Seer tell her she’d live to the ripe old age of 96 and die surrounded by her twelve children. Of course that didn’t happen, did it?”

He sat down and pulled out his _Monster Book of Monsters_ , taking care to stroke the spine so he didn’t get his fingers chomped. He and Shredder, as he’d named the book, had developed a sort of understanding. He’d stroke the damned thing’s spine every day a couple of times, and Shredder wouldn’t try to gobble up his Potions essay in his rucksack. Snape, of course, hadn’t believed his excuse and had taken ten points from Gryffindor.

“Does Hagrid have you doing flobberworms too?” Potter asked.

“Jobberknolls. Mine died today. It was, quite entertaining at the end there. Anyways, I’m looking for something else.” He started at the index, though he doubted he’d find “giant, black dog” there.

“What are you looking for?”

Arcturus hesitated, not really sure he wanted to say. But Potter looked genuinely curious, and he had sort of done it to himself, mentioning that he was looking for something particular in the book.

“Oh fine, I’ve met this dog. Twice now. Once in London, and again—near the Forest.” He certainly wasn’t going to admit that he’d been roaming the Forbidden Forest!

Potter’s eyes widened and he looked around furtively, but the library was empty except for them. Everyone else at least had the right idea for a Friday night.

“A black one? Sort of thin and dirty? And big?”

Whatever Arcturus had been expecting from Potter, it certainly wasn’t _that_.

“You’ve seen it too?” he asked urgently.

“Yeah. The night I ran away from my aunt and uncle’s house. It—I think it’s a Grim.”

Arcturus let out a bark of laughter and Madam Pince gave him a withering glare. He made his customary apologies, even though it was absurd. It wasn’t like there was anyone else around to bother!

“The Grim? What next? You’ve seen Babbity Rabbity’s cackling stump?”

“I’m not making this up!” Potter retorted, annoyed that Arcturus clearly wasn’t taking him seriously.

“The Grim isn’t real. It’s just something to scare those superstitious nuts that think Divination is real. You think you’re going to die, Potter?”

“Hermione doesn’t think so,” Potter admitted, “but Ron says his Uncle Bilius saw one and died a day later.”

“Well my Grim just wanted some food,” Arcturus replied. “Didn’t seem very scary, and I’m certainly still here. Since I’ve seen it twice now, don’t you think that maybe the Grim story is fake?”

“Then, what do you think it is? Just, a dog?”

“That’s what I’m hoping to find out. It was too smart to be just a dog, and no dog would come all the way up to Hogwarts. And how did it even get on the grounds? The castle is protected by all kinds of wards, you can’t just waltz in.”

Arcturus went back to flipping through his _Monster Book of Monsters_ , looking for anything that even vaguely resembled the dog he’d seen. Potter looked at his Divination essay, then shoved it aside.

“I’ll help you,” he declared. He disappeared into the stacks and came back a moment later with more books on magical creatures. They put their heads together, searching for what they’d seen. But by the end of the night when Madam Pince shooed them out of the library, they had no leads except Potter’s Grim theory. And that was utterly ridiculous.


End file.
